


My Partner, the Car

by Zephyrfox



Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Science, M/M, MCD, Misunderstandings, but temporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: James Bond goes to pick up his late partner’s old car, and discovers there’s more to the Jaguar than anyone realized. He goes to Q for help — and a few dates — to unravel the mystery of his partner’s car.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story took a while to write. From initial idea to posting day was at least 2 years. The WIP Big Bang helped give me incentive to finish it, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> My Partner the Car has some fantastic cover art by Reeby10, who claimed it in the WIP Big Bang. You can find it [here.](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/795109%E2%80%9D%20target=) Go take a look!
> 
> There’s cover art by [Leavesdancing](https://leavesdancing.tumblr.com/) [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/547831a3822b65a4cebce99c0a821aeb/tumblr_pwi4nbt2mz1tnrxcco1_1280.jpg) and [here!](https://66.media.tumblr.com/0f06e9b83351a7d253bef87dd342243e/tumblr_pwk2yoBQ0o1tnrxcco1_1280.png)

James followed the mechanic through the rows of cars. Some were waiting to be worked on and others were waiting to be picked up — including the car he was there for.

“Here it is, sir.” The mechanic watched him with an ingratiating smile, waiting for his reaction.

“Thanks.” James stepped forward, leaving the mechanic behind to walk around the car. After three months of repair work, it looked showroom new with its green paint gleaming in the sunlight. He called back over his shoulder, “Any problems with the restoration?”

“No problems at all. A few new parts, banging out the dents…” The mechanic trailed off and paled, as if realizing what he was saying and who he was saying it to. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to remind you —“

“It’s fine,” he said sharply, glaring. “Is there anything else I need to sign, or can I take it home?”

The mechanic shook his head. “Everything is taken care of, sir. Once you’re in the main aisle, just follow the signs out.” He shifted uncomfortably, as if he had something else to say, then he appeared to think better of it. The mechanic finally turned and walked away, although he cast a look back over his shoulder before disappearing into the garage. Probably to make sure James wasn’t following.

James took a deep breath and turned back to the car. It was a green 2008 Jaguar X-Type, and as he studied it, pain stabbed him through the chest like a knife. He closed his eyes against the reminder of Alec and cursed himself for a fool. He’d thought he had been prepared. For a moment, all he could do was grit his teeth and breathe as he waited for the bitterness and pain to fade. 

When he regained control, he went to the driver’s door, fishing the keys out of his pocket on the way. At the door, he realized with a start that he no longer had to work to hide the slight limp that remained from his last mission. He cautiously stretched his leg. No sign of pain. It had finally healed. An interesting coincidence that he only noticed it when he was picking up Alec’s car.

_ Alec. _ He braced himself against the expected resurgence of pain. His partner — his _ lover _— was gone and he hadn’t been allowed to search for the body. He sighed, suddenly tired. “All right, let’s get you home.”

He pressed the button on the key fob, unlocking the Jag and disarming its alarm. The door opened easily, releasing stale air from inside the car, carrying the scent of chemical cleaners and oil, but nothing of Alec. James got in, sinking into the leather seat as it seemed to form itself to his backside, almost hugging him. He hadn’t realized Jaguars could be so comfortable. No wonder Alec had loved them so much. His partner had been as sybaritic as a cat, always concerned with comfort whenever possible. He adjusted the seat and the mirrors, then adjusted them again, strangely reluctant to start the car. He shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh when he caught himself glancing to his left. No matter how he long he waited, Alec was never going to slide into the passenger seat with a grin and ask why he wasn’t driving his own car.

He turned the key and the Jag roared to life.

* * *

The Jaguar almost seemed to anticipate his actions the entire drive home. Shifting gears, steering, braking, accelerating — all were so responsive it was almost as if they moved on their own. It was a nice car, he admitted to himself, although he’d never give up his beloved Aston Martin DB5. The mechanic really had done an excellent job restoring the Jaguar, after…

_ He waited at the rendezvous, going over their plan. As soon as Alec arrived with the money, they’d be able to get the girl out of the way, then arrest the smugglers. The girl — what was her name? — huddled in a purple hoodie in the corner of the office, watching him anxiously. She was an innocent who gotten mixed up in this somehow, and they needed to protect her. The smugglers were out in the warehouse, waiting for their money. If anything went wrong, he would need to shoot his way out. He wasn’t worried, though. Alec would be there. _

_ His mobile rang, and the girl jumped, giving a little shriek at the unexpected noise. He ignored her. Only one person had this number — “Alec? What’s wrong?” Silence answered him, followed by the sudden shock of metal hitting something, and then the line went dead. His stomach twisted as he hit redial. There was no answer. _

He pulled to a stop next to his own car in the parking garage. He sat there for a moment, listening to the engine purr as he remembered.

_ He’d shot his way out of the warehouse, dragging the girl with him. She got out without a scratch, but he had wrenched his knee and was limping. The smugglers were all dead, and he didn’t give a damn. He had only been concerned about finding Alec. He dumped the girl and the evidence with the local station, then went searching. He knew the most likely route his partner would have taken, and he’d backtracked. _

_ Halfway up the mountain, he rounded a curve and hit the brakes, bringing his Aston to a screeching halt. The skidmarks scarring the road looked new, as did the damage to the metal barrier that separated the road from a sheer drop down the mountain. He got out of the car, his heart in his throat. He already knew what he’d find, although he hoped he was wrong. _

_ He made his way to the edge and peeked over. His knee chose that moment to give out, and he found himself on the ground, staring down at the wreck of a familiar car. _

He shook away the memory. What was he going to do with the Jag now? Alec had left it to him, but he had his Aston. The thought of just selling the Jaguar made his stomach twist. _ Later. _He could deal with it all later. No need to make a decision now.

He turned the car off and reached for the door handle. The lock clicked shut. _ Odd. _ He pressed the button to unlock the door again. The door lock popped up, and he went for the door handle. The second his hand touched it, the lock dropped down again. _ What the hell? _

The next few minutes were a back and forth of unlocking the door and grabbing the handle with increasing frustration. Finally, James snapped, “Let me out, damn you!” as he hurled himself against the door. It popped open abruptly, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. He rolled over and stared at the car, stunned. Was someone playing a trick on him? Had Q installed an ejector seat, and he’d accidentally activated it?

The radio snapped on in a burst of sound and static as the tuner went up and down the band several times.

“Hello.” It was a fragment of a familiar song. Pink Floyd?

“James.” That one was spoken, sounding like a man introducing himself on a newscast.

He closed his eyes, sternly dragging his mind back from the direction it wanted to go. Remembering the stories Kincade had told him when he was a boy, about the ghosts haunting Skyfall Lodge. He opened his eyes and got up. _ “No.” _He firmly shut the Jag’s door, pressed the alarm on the key fob, and turned on his heel. He ignored the way the alarm chirped off and on by itself several times, and let himself into the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. All this was a hallucination, a trick of some kind. He had a big bottle of Scotch in the flat calling his name. With any luck, he’d drink enough to forget all this ever happened.

* * *

The next morning, James crept down the stairs to the parking garage, embarrassed and nursing a bit of a hangover. Ghosts didn’t exist. Everything that had happened the night before had a logical explanation. A short in the alarm system that affected the door locks, probably. And the door had simply been stuck. He would have to bring the Jag back to the mechanic for repairs. A stray suspicion raised its head as he remembered the mechanic’s nervousness the day before. MI6 used this particular mechanic for his discretion and his ability to cope with the previous Quartermaster’s modifications. Could someone have paid the mechanic to add some sort of remote control? He didn’t think it was likely, but he could always interrogate the man to be sure. Mallory frowned on that sort of thing on home soil, though. Maybe he should convince Q to check the car? He opened the door leading to the garage and looked out. Alec’s Jaguar was still parked next to his Aston. Nothing unusual there. 

It was just his imagination after all. 

Still, he walked past the Jag to his own car a little faster than usual. No big deal, he was just eager to get to work. The Jag’s driver’s side door popped open invitingly. As he stared at it, the radio blared to life in a cacophony of sound and static. “Hello. Hello. Hello.”

_ Fuck. _He slammed the Jaguar’s door shut and went to his Aston, steadfastly ignoring the other car. He unlocked his car and got in, starting the engine before reaching for the seatbelt. Then he reversed out of the parking spot, changed direction, and accelerated out of the garage. He didn’t look back.

* * *

“You want me to what?” Q stared at him, one hand hanging in mid air, forgotten in the act of reaching for his mug of tea.

James smiled, striving for _ I’m not insane, _rather than charming. He knew how his request might sound; James Bond, trying to pull the Quartermaster. Except this wasn’t the way he’d imagined inviting Q around to his. “Check over Alec’s Jaguar. Something’s odd about it.”

“You’re serious?” Q’s eyes widened with that realization, then he shook his head as he picked up his tea. “All right. Bring it in and I’ll get one of my techs to look it over. Good day, Bond. I’m busy.”

_ Shit. _ He didn’t trust any of the technicians. Only the Quartermaster. “No, Q, wait. It has to be you. And at the garage at our… _ my _flat.”

Hazel eyes assessed him suspiciously from behind thick black frames. “What do you really want, Bond?”

“I…” How could he tell Q that he suspected the Jag might be haunted? He knew how that sounded. He’d end up sectioned, and then no one would check out the Jaguar. If it really _ was… _He shivered. “I think someone is trying to play with my mind.”

“So it’s a security issue.”

He took a breath, weighing possible answers. Finally, he shrugged helplessly. “Yes.”

Q heaved a sigh, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling in a mute plea for strength. “All right. I’ll clear my schedule. Pick me up at half two.”

James relaxed in relief. “Thank you, Quartermaster.”

“Thank me by getting out of my branch and letting me get some work done.”

He got.

* * *

At half two precisely, he returned to Q-Branch to find that Q wasn’t quite ready. James curbed his impatience. If he tried to hurry the Quartermaster along, he was sure that Q would dig in his heels and refuse to go at all. This was too important to cock up. He took a seat in the corner of the office and waited, watching as Q went over what looked like schematics, making corrections and adding notes here and there.

At last Q put aside the schematics and stood, stretching. 

James quickly stood as well. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Nearly.” Q regarded him with a probing look, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I’ve got to stop in the garage to pick up a tool kit.”

“Right. That’s on the way. Let’s go.” 

Q shot him a look that suggested he’d been assessed and been found wanting. James shrugged it off. It didn’t really matter what Q thought of him as long as the Jaguar got checked.

They took the lift up through the lower levels of MI6 to the garage level. There he waited impatiently for Q to retrieve the kit from Q-Branch’s section of the garage. James was surprised to see that the tool kit was nearly as big as the Quartermaster himself. He offered to take it, but Q refused, so he led the way to the Aston and opened its boot.

“Nice car,” Q said, dropping the tool kit in. It took up nearly the entire available space. Q waited until they were on the street before asking, “Why do you think someone is playing with you?”

He shot a glance at Q then turned his attention back to navigating through London’s busy afternoon traffic. “The Jaguar locking and unlocking itself, the alarm going off, the radio blaring — all when I hadn’t touched them.”

“Hmmm…” Q sounded pensive. “You suspect some sort of remote control.”

“It would be the logical explanation.”

“I see.”

James was relieved that Q didn’t seem inclined towards more conversation on the drive to his flat. Of course, that was only because Q was too busy observing him. The silence remained unbroken until after he pulled into his spot next to the Jaguar and they got out of the car.

“It looks in good shape.” _ For a car that was so recently a mangled wreck _ went unsaid.

“I picked it up yesterday from the mechanic that restored it.”

Q hummed in thought, pulling his tool kit from the Aston’s boot. “Could he have rigged it?” 

“I didn’t find anything.” Not that he’d checked. He hadn’t gone close enough to the car after what had happened. Too many memories of Kincade’s cautionary tales of ghosts out for revenge, and the fear that he’d somehow failed Alec. “That’s why I wanted you to go over it.”

“Well then,” Q said, taking a lab coat from the tool kit and pulling it on. A sharp look at James warned him not to make any comments about _ lab coats _ or _ spots. _“I’d best get started.”

James was quickly relegated to the role of assistant, handing Q whichever tool he asked for. The Quartermaster started at the front, with the engine, and worked his way towards the rear of the Jaguar. When he was satisfied, he produced a pair of hydraulic lifts and a lightweight metal square out of the tool kit. He handed the lifts to James with instructions to raise the car, then performed a kind of complicated reverse origami on the square. He produced a sturdy wheeled rectangular frame with a magician’s flourish and a grin at James, then laid down on it to zip underneath the car. 

It was nearly seven by the time Q stowed the last of his tools in the kit. “There’s no evidence any tampering. Certainly nothing suggesting the possibility of remote activation.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Q said blandly. “I spent the afternoon studying the notes and schematics old Boothroyd left on this car. I’m the Quartermaster of MI6 for a reason, you know.” Q studied him again with an assessing, probing gaze. “Bond, was this an elaborate ruse to ask me to dinner?”

James hid his disappointment that there hadn’t been any signs of tampering. Maybe he should call Kincade and see if the old man had any suggestion for appeasing restless spirits. Or maybe this whole thing was just his mind playing tricks on him. He leaned his hip against the Aston and folded his arms, striving for his most charming smile. “Only if it worked.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Just take me to dinner. After all that, I’m starving.”

* * *

Q contemplated Bond. _ James. _He’d been invited to use his agent’s first name, but that way lay danger of the sort that intrigued him as much as it screamed a warning. He hadn’t reciprocated with his own name, and thankfully Bond hadn’t pressed him, although that was suspicious in and of itself, wasn’t it? Bond had agreed too quickly that claiming there was something odd about his dead partner’s car was just a ruse to invite him on a date. He suspected there was more to the situation than that. There had been an edge to Bond when he’d asked for help, and that hadn’t disappeared. Even now, Bond seemed more distracted than charming.

“Why ask me out? Especially now, when —” he cut himself short, unwilling to bring up Trevelyan’s death in so many words. Everyone knew the two agents had been close friends for years. That they’d been on a mission together when Trevelyan died had to make it more difficult for Bond to deal with. Was this just an odd way for Bond to work through his grief? Everyone knew Bond didn’t have many non-agent friends.

Bond started, more evidence of the agent’s distraction. Was this dinner a good idea? Bond obviously had to switch his focus in order to answer the question. Before Q’s eyes, Bond became the suave, charismatic agent he knew.

“No, Alec would understand. He’d want me to find someone. Being alone just leads to a drinks problem.”

Q fought the impulse to stare. Was Bond saying he and Trevelyan had been lovers? How had they managed to keep that quiet, given the rumour mill that was MI6? The two even shared a flat, for God’s sake! 

“Besides,” Bond continued, “we both were interested in you. We didn’t pursue you because you didn’t seem to be interested in anyone.”

There were a few of the Double O’s Q wouldn’t mind taking for a tumble, but that wouldn’t do his reputation at work any good, and he needed their respect. At the top of his list, of course, were Bond and Trevelyan. None of the Double O’s had shown an interest in him so far, so he’d put them all off limits in his mind. But Bond was looking at him, waiting for a response. He pulled himself together and hoped he managed to sound as though Bond hadn’t surprised him. “Dating coworkers can lead to problems. But… I can’t date civilians. They don’t understand my hours or my need for secrecy. I haven’t dated anyone in over a year. Far too busy and no prospects, really.”

Now, though… Bond was interested in him after all, and Trevelyan had been before his death. But Q’s earlier thought came back to him, more urgently now that he knew Bond and Trevelyan had been more than friends. Was this a real attraction for Bond, or was he just trying to come to terms with his grief? 

* * *

James returned home later that night, after dropping Q at his own flat with a vague promise of seeing each other at work the next day. He drove into the parking garage, heading for his usual spot. The Jag was there, in its own spot, just as he’d left it. He parked his Aston and got out. The Jag did nothing, sitting there with an almost meek air. He shook his head and called himself a fool, then hurried past it to the stairs. He told himself he imagined the forlorn sounding beep of the alarm system as he closed the stairwell door. It was probably just another car in the garage, anyway.

Nothing else happened for the next two days, other than him attempting to avoid the Quartermaster. He was almost disgruntled when he realized Q wasn’t even looking for him. James had begun to think he’d imagined the whole thing with the Jaguar. Then Mallory told him there were no missions for him for at least a month, even though he’d passed medical and psych. _ The budget you know, old boy. _ He suspected it was because they didn’t trust him, despite passing their tests. Fair enough, he supposed, because he’d cheated as hard as he could. He knew all the right words to manipulate the psych eval, and as for medical — well, he’d simply hacked the computer where the Double O records lived and changed a few things. He’d been careful not to leave any electronic fingerprints, although he wasn’t too worried. No one would actually suspect _ him _ of making the changes. He’d taken care to cultivate the image of a blunt weapon that didn’t know a keyboard from a motherboard. But he _ needed _a mission. Now. He was beginning to go stir crazy stuck in London, surrounded by his memories. 

He left MI6, fuming, and his mood hadn’t improved by the time he pulled into the parking garage at his flat. He glared at the Jaguar, just sitting in the next spot doing nothing, as he passed it. James still had a sour feeling in his stomach from when Mallory denied him a mission, and the Jaguar was a bitter reminder that his last mission failed. He went up to the flat, pulled out a bottle of scotch and a glass from the cabinet. He stared at the bottle for a moment, thinking of ghosts and the past — and took down another bottle.

Hours later, thoroughly pissed, James stumbled down to the parking garage in a haze of alcohol. He leaned against the wall in front of the Jaguar and stared at it. “Are you going to do anything?”

The car just sat there. No such thing as ghosts, after all.

“If you don’t do something I’ll have you melted down for scrap.”

Still nothing.

Fury suffused him and he pushed himself off the wall to stagger around the car. He raised a fist, ready to smash in the windshield. He had a vague worry he’d break his hand, but he didn’t care. He wanted a fight, or at least to destroy something. But before his fist could connect, the driver’s door swung open and knocked him on his arse. The door started to swing shut again, and he shoved himself to his feet and grabbed it. After a brief wrestling match, he ended up sitting in the driver’s seat. “Well?”

Silence.

He sat there fuming. “I’ve had Q go over you with a fine-toothed comb. He must have thought I was losing my mind. He found nothing to explain what you’ve done.”

More silence.

“Who are you, really?”

The radio came on, showing stations changing rapidly up and then down the dial, accompanied by bursts of music, talk, and static. Then, as before, the message came.

First was a snippet sung by the Beatles. “Hello.”

“James.” That one was from a song he wasn’t familiar with, and he knew most of the ones that featured his name.

“This is,” came from another newscast. Then the tuner rapidly spun to produce individual syllables. “Aaa. El. Eeee. See.”

James couldn’t help staring in stunned disbelief, even though he had suspected. “How?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” The words were from three different songs.

“Prove you’re Alec and not a trick.”

Silence. 

Triumph surged, along with a hint of regret. He knew it. There was no way it could be—

“Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor,” a rough voice scream sang over harsh chords.

“What?” Was that a threat? Or a nod to him being a spy and assassin?

— “On the guest list

With the Swedish House Mafia

You can find me on a table

Full of vodka and tequila” — 

_ “Stop.” _ Now the first set of lyrics from the unknown song made sense. This was the song that had been playing the last time they’d been together. They hadn’t made it to the bed. They’d had sex on the hotel room floor, with _ Miami 2 Ibiza _blaring on the radio in the background. It had to be Alec. No on else could know the significance of that song. 

“My God. It _ is _you.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James brings the Jaguar to Q, to prove to himself he's not imagining Alec's presence. Q is skeptical at first, and James and Alec must convince their Quartermaster of the truth, strange as it is.

“My god, it _ is _you.” James sat back in the seat, the shock clearing drunken cobwebs from his mind. His mind whirled. What next? “Is this the only way you can communicate? With scraps of whatever is currently playing somewhere on the radio?”

The horn sounded in a series of beeps, long and short. “-.-- . …” Yes.

“Morse code,” James chuckled. “Smart arse.”

For the rest of the night, he sat in the Jag talking, with Alec filling his side of the conversation with snippets of music and morse code when the radio failed to have anything relevant. He only stopped when he saw other residents coming down to the garage to begin their morning commutes. “All right. I’m bringing you to Q.”

Hopefully Q would give him a chance to prove himself and not have him sectioned immediately.

* * *

Fortunately, he had no trouble with the Jag in traffic. Considering all the ways it could have gone wrong, he took that as a sign that Alec agreed with him. He left the Jag idling outside the Q-Branch garage door and went down to find Q. He had no doubt that anyone attempting to steal the car would immediately regret every decision in life bringing them to that point.

He barely noticed people giving him a wide berth as he strode through the hallways to Q-branch’s main room. People normally got out of his way when he moved with purpose. Conversation fell off as he entered the room and headed towards Q’s desk. Whispers started up as he went past the techs. “Q! I—”

Q looked up, his expression going from mildly annoyed to shocked. He stood and met James in the center of the room. “Bond? Are you all right? Here, come sit down.” The Quartermaster took his arm and led him into one of the side offices set aside for conferences.

James shook his arm free. Any other time, he might appreciate some solicitousness from Q, now though, there were more important matters on his mind. “I’m fine, what are you talking about?”

Q spoke carefully, as if he wasn’t certain of James’ mental state. “Normally, James Bond, 007, doesn’t set foot in MI6 unless he’s in a suit. And certainly never less than impeccably groomed.”

_ What? _ James stopped and looked down at himself. _ Oh. _ He wore ragged jeans, a green t-shirt that was one of Alec’s, trainers, he hadn’t shaved… and he probably smelled like a distillery, given how much he’d drunk the night before. No wonder everyone he’d seen in the hallways had stayed well away from him. “I’m _ fine.” _

Q raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing.

He sighed, impatient. “It’s about the car. I need you to take a look at it again.”

“More strange behavior?”

“You could say that.”

Q studied him, then nodded sharply. “All right. Your place, same as before?”

“No, he’s —_ it’s _waiting outside the Q-Branch garage.” He ignored the way both Q’s brows rose. He didn’t think it was because of his slip, but because he’d actually brought the car to MI6.

“Well then, I guess I should take a look. Bring it inside, and I’ll meet you in Bay —” Q trailed off, looking into the distance. “— Bay 2. It should be open now.”

“Right.” James nodded. “Wait. I think you should see how it drives, first.”

“I’m sure it drives like any other car, Bond. Just bring it in, I can take it for a test drive later.”

* * *

Once more James played assistant as Q went over the Jaguar. This time, though, he was sure Q wouldn’t find anything. He smiled blandly back whenever Q shot him concerned glances while inspecting the Jaguar, and waited until they were finished. That was when he would reveal his proof. He still wasn’t sure ghosts were real, but how else to explain Alec’s presence? 

Q wiped his hands on a greasy rag hanging from his toolbelt. “There’s nothing wrong with the car, Bond. Perhaps… it might be time to consider talking to one of the counselors —”

“Now.”

The Jaguar — _ Alec _ — opened and closed the driver’s side door, then flashed its headlights in Morse code, spelling out, _ ‘Hello, Q.’ _

Wait. Did the Quartermaster know Morse? “He just said hello,” James said helpfully. 

Q frowned at the Jaguar. “That’s impossible. There’s no remote control that I could find. How did you do it?”

James shook his head. “That wasn’t me. It’s Alec. Somehow, he’s haunting the Jag.”

“That’s impossible. Cars don’t do things on their own, and people who are dead don’t haunt anything, let alone cars.”

“It really is Alec. He proved it to me.”

One skeptical brow rose above Q’s glasses. “Really.”

The Jag’s radio came to life. James frowned. He recognized the band — Linkin Park? — but not the song.

“You do favors and then rapidly, you just

Turn around and start asking me about

Things you want back from me.”

Q frowned at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I… think it’s a song that has meaning to you that only Alec would know,” James said, shooting a sharp glance at the Jag. He’d expected Alec to use snippets of song to communicate. But — _ why would Alec think he and Q had a significant song? _

Q shook his head, baffled. “I have no idea why he — oh gods, now you’ve got _ me _doing it — would play that particular song.”

“I need you to hear, I need you to see that I have had all that I can take, and exploding seems like a definite possibility to me,” a singer speed-sang along to jagged chords. 

_ What was the song? _ James thought for a minute before he recognized it. _ Pardon Me, _ by Incubus. He looked for Q’s reaction.

The Quartermaster shook his head and shrugged. “No clue.”

“Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?”

James relaxed when he recognized the Avril Lavigne lyrics. He almost laughed. It had taken two songs for Alec to convince _ him, _ after all. And complicated was certainly a good description for some of the Quartermaster’s gadgets. At least — he shot another glance at the Jaguar. He _ hoped _that was all the lyrics meant.

“Sorry. No idea.” Q shrugged, obviously completely mystified. “I’m not good with music. I tend to ignore it, so I don’t normally remember what was playing at a particular time or during an event.”

“It’s the fiii-nal countdownnnn—”

Q’s eyes went wide, allowing James to see the connection being made as the Quartermaster realized that Alec truly was there in the Jaguar. 

“That’s…. You were _ careless _ then,” Q sputtered, anger in his voice. “I can’t believe you’d use that to — of course you didn’t think you were, but turn that _ off!” _

“I take it that one has meaning for you?” James asked, startled at the sudden intensity of Q’s reaction.

“Yes,” Q bit off, glaring at the Jaguar, but straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath, as if he was reining in his temper. “He called in for help while defusing a bomb that was ready to go off any second, and refused to get to safety instead.”

James took a deep breath and controlled his reaction. He hadn’t known that Alec had been playing with bombs recently. If he had, they would have had an argument about recklessness. But at least they’d convinced the Quartermaster, even if the song it took hit a nerve. “That’s how he communicates, snippets of song. He used the radio at first, so it was limited to whatever was playing. I hooked an iPod into his console.”

“That’s actually clever,” Q said grudgingly. “This might help, too. Beep once for no, twice for yes.”

_ Why hadn’t they thought of something like that? _“Shouldn’t that be once for yes, twice for no?”

The Quartermaster shot him a withering glare that spoke volumes about his intelligence. “Of course not.”

The Jaguar beeped once, then twice, then flickered its headlights on and off, in what they had agreed was laughter.

“See? He agrees with me,” Q said with a hint of smugness. He cocked his head, considering the Jaguar for a moment. Then he nodded once, sharply. “I’m going to move him to Bay 1.”

“Your personal workshop? Why?”

“Upgrades.” Q turned away, smirking, already caught up in his plans.

James felt wrong footed. He hadn’t planned on the Quartermaster wanting to do anything to Alec. “No.”

Q scoffed at him, then patted the Jaguar’s bonnet. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll love what I come up with.”

The Jag beeped twice, apparently agreeing with Q, and then its headlights blinked like a bloody strobe. Laughing at him again. Traitorous bastard.

* * *

“Q? May I ask you a question?”

“Hmmm?” Q responded absently around the wire snips he held between his teeth. He was elbows deep within the guts of Alec’s wiring. “What did you say?”

Alec’s chuckle sounded warm in his ear. It was lucky that James had been able to get him other samples of Alec speaking and reacting; he’d been able to program in a wide range of reactions. Much more accurate than relying on random song lyrics. 

Alec’s voice took on a wheedling tone. “What’s your real name?”

He snorted. “You don’t have a need to know.”

A few minutes of silence followed, then the next question came. “Do you want to date James?”

“What?” The snips dropped out of his mouth and he straightened up, banging his head against the open bonnet. How did Alec know? He huffed, exasperated at himself. When James took him to dinner, obviously. Was Alec angry? “Erm, no? Why?” 

“If you do, that’s fine, you know. We’ve both been interested in you. Besides,” Alec paused, as if unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I’m not exactly in a position to do anything physical with James these days.”

“Erm…” Q wasn’t sure what to say. Was Alec giving him permission to date James?

“You, erm… you _ do _like sex, don’t you?” Now Alec sounded uncomfortable. “We’ve noticed you don’t date anyone. We thought you might be asexual.”

That startled Q into a laugh. “I do like sex as it happens. I just haven’t dated since I started with MI6.”

“You’ve been with MI6 for a few years now and you haven’t dated?” Alec sounded confused. “That’s not asexuality?”

“No, asexuality has nothing to do sex drive. It has to do with sexual attraction. There are plenty of people I’m attracted to, I just don’t want to jump into bed with them. Plus, I don’t particularly care for one night stands, I prefer a relationship. My sex drive is normal, though.”

“Ah.” Alec was quiet for a while. 

Q shrugged mentally and went back to work. He should be done soon. He’d been working on the Jag for three days straight, and James had been pestering him since he second day to see the upgrades before they were ready for the big reveal.

* * *

“Ah, there you are!” Q grinned at him, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Come in, you’re late.”

“Your message said to be here at five, it’s half four.” It’d been difficult to keep from charging into the workshop even earlier. Q had had his hands on the Jaguar for the last three days, only sending out cryptic requests. Even Q’s own techs had no idea what was going on in Bay 1.

Those three days had given James time to think, to question what had happened and to plan what to do next.

“Oh. Right.” Q adjusted his glasses and gave a dismissive shrug “Well, all that matters is that you’re here. I want to show you what I’ve done.”

He nodded, eyeing the Jag. It didn’t look any different than when he’d left it with Q three days earlier.

Q led him around the Jag. “First, I gave the outside, including the windows, several layers of my bullet resistant coating. It’s not necessarily bullet _ proof, _mind you, but it should stand up to anything short of an explosive. Moving inside, I’ve tweaked the engine. It’s now much more efficient, and can easily run 50 miles per gallon. I’ve increased the speed, too.” Q looked proud of himself as he opened the Jag’s door and gestured inside. “You’ll note several new buttons in the cabin — smoke screen, rocket launcher, caltrops, and ejector seat. Erm. The rockets aren’t quite ready yet. They have to be specially made.”

James was impressed despite himself. Still, he couldn’t help but snark, “I thought you wouldn’t ‘go in for that sort of thing’, Q.”

“This is much more than a simple _ exploding pen, _ Bond,” the Quartermaster said drily, _”__This _is a masterpiece of engineering.”

James hid a smile at Q’s enthusiasm for his work. “Of course, Quartermaster.”

“Right.” Q eyed him suspiciously. “Now, I have a surprise for you. _ We _have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

Q nodded to the Jaguar. “Go ahead.” 

“Surprise, James! Q’s given me my voice back. What do you think?”

It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. “Alec,” he whispered. He never thought he’d hear that voice again outside of recordings. He looked at Q. “How?”

Q smiled, smug. “I sampled his voice from every report he ever dictated, as well as the recordings you sent me. Thank you for those, they helped immensely. Then I broke them down into all of the disparate sounds and syllables and programmed them into a computer controlled speaker and installed it into the Jaguar. And that allows Alec to speak.”

“I don’t know what to say, Q. Thank you seems inadequate, somehow.”

“Alec is of the opinion that you need to take me to dinner again. Oh, here.” Q pulled a small box off the nearby workbench and handed it to him. “Open it.”

The box was plain brown; unmarked cardboard that gave no hints as to what lay hidden within. He pulled off the cover to reveal a tiny earwig nestled in cotton. He picked it up, checking it over. It was smaller than the usual Q-branch issue. He looked at Q, a question on his face.

“Its a two-way link to Alec. Speak as you normally would, and the microphone will pick up your voice. You can even whisper. The speaker is set to what should be a comfortable volume for you. Go on, try it out.”

James activated the earwig and slipped into his ear. It fit snuggly yet comfortably in his ear canal. “Can you hear me?”

“Hello, James.” 

_ “Alec.” _His eyelids closed involuntarily at the familiar voice purring in his ear, his cock twitching eagerly at the sense memory of Alec’s breath puffing against his skin, whispering the love and nonsense they allowed themselves to indulge in when they had sex. He shook off the memory and stared at the car. With the earwig, he could have Alec with him wherever he went. But what if… Three days worth of doubts rose all at once and he inhaled sharply, feeling as if someone had dropped a bucket of cold water over him. Did he want Alec back so much that he was willfully overlooking how very impossible this was? Was he playing into some enemy’s hands?

He turned to Q, amping up the wattage of his usual charming smile, and purred, “Where did you want to go to dinner?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes Q on another date, while Alec waits back at the Q-branch garage where something unexpected occurs. With unplanned visits from several Double O's, Q finds himself distracted from his work on the Jaguar.

“You left the earwig in the car,” Q said, taking a bite of an excellent steak. He really needed to remember this place for the future. It was a five star restaurant of course, and naturally the maitre d’ knew Bond by sight. 

Bond had driven them there in his Aston, leaving Alec to the attentions of the Q-Branch techs. Q had told them to make sure the Jaguar was spotless inside and out. But when they got to the restaurant, to his surprise, Bond left his link to Alec in the Aston’s coin holder.

“Ah, you spotted that.” Bond gazed at him pensively. “I wanted to talk without hm overhearing.” 

_ How curious.  _ “Why?”

“How sure are you that it’s Alec? Could we — could  _ I _ — be mistaken?”

Q sat back, setting his fork on the plate in front of him. He wanted to give Bond his full attention. “I thought you were sure.”

“I was. I  _ am.  _ But… what if I was wrong?”

“Now’s a fine time to tell me.” He stared at Bond, mentally going over every interaction he’d had with Alec, both in the flesh and as a car. “No, I don’t think you were wrong. He does seem to be Alec.”

Bond exhaled in relief. “Good. I was beginning to doubt…”

He had to put a stop to that. Field agents that doubted their instincts got dead. “You shouldn’t. You were right about Alec being in the Jaguar, impossible as that is. Now we need to figure out how it happened. I can’t believe there’s a supernatural explanation. There has to be some rational explanation.”

“And if there’s a rational explanation, I’m sure you’ll find it.” Bond covered Q’s hand with his own and smiled seductively. “But first, we’re on a date.”

Q smiled back, an anticipatory flutter in his stomach at Bond’s obvious interest. “So we are.”

* * *

Alec fought the urge to sigh. He could wait patiently, for hours if necessary, for a target to assassinate. But now? Night had barely fallen, no one was around, and he was already bored. James and Q had gone out to dinner earlier and the Q-Branch techs swarming him had left. There was nothing to keep him occupied.

Neither he nor Q was certain where “he” was in the Jag. Their best guess had been the onboard computer, but when Q had disengaged it, to move it to a more protected location within the body of the car, Alec had remained awake and able to communicate. Q had muttered something about the ancient Egyptians believing that the seat of consciousness was in the heart rather than in the brain, and hooked it back up. He’d even installed a new CPU and hard drive that Alec could use to control his “voice”.

He checked the clock and groaned. It wasn’t even close to midnight yet. He attempted to amuse himself by playing songs over the radio, but turned it off a few minutes later in a fit of pique. He had all those songs stored in his hard drive.

Q had added external and internal cameras and microphones, which had enhanced what he could see and hear, but he’d been perfectly capable of seeing and hearing without the added equipment. They just had no idea how that worked. Then Q had set him up with a permanent channel on James’ earwig, and he’d been excited that he could take part in James’ life again, but of course the bastard had shut it off so he wouldn’t overhear their date.

Alec poked around in the hard drive, hoping to find something interesting. He laughed when he came across a cache of dramatic audioplays from a science fiction programme Q liked. Ordinarily he would have teased Q about it, but for now he was too grateful for something to listen to. Choosing one at random, he settled back to listen.

* * *

_ He couldn’t breathe!  _ Alec thrashed in panic, his heart pounding. He was surrounded by water, with no reassuring pull of gravity to help him tell up from down.  _ Which way to the surface?!  _

Air suddenly flooded into his lugs, and he felt his heart calming. He realized that he could hear voices, garbled by the water, shouting. He tried to open his eyes. When he finally managed, all he could see through the water was a vague dimness in front of him.  _ How was he breathing if he was under water? _

There was another shout, short this time, like a command. The air took on an odd taste, and darkness closed in on him.

Alec came alert, shaken, still feeling as though he needed to gasp for air. What was that? He’d just been listening to one of Q’s audioplays. He checked the file, and found it had ended while he’d been unaware. Had he actually slept? And had a nightmare? According to the clock, it was only an hour later than it had been the last time he’d looked. 

He was still in the Jag, and everything was normal. Well, as normal as it could be when he inhabited a car. He’d have to tell Q in the morning. He’d ask how the date with James went, too.

_ Now what?  _ Once more he checked the time. He was reluctant to listen to another of Q’s audioplays in case he had another… episode, and James’ date with Q had to be over by now. He didn’t want to try pinging the earwig and have it go unanswered again. Besides, by now James was probably asleep. Or busy. With Q. And he  _ wasn’t  _ jealous. Was he?

His speaker crackled to life. “Are you there?” 

_ James, calling him after all?  _ “Yes, I am. Did your date go well?” He strove to sound as if cutting him out of the date bothered him not at all. He wasn’t sure if he completely succeeded. No, this wasn’t jealousy, it was more... the knowledge that they could touch, and he was, well, a  _ car. _

“Well enough,” James said, and Alec could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve dropped Q off at his flat. Do you, erm... want me to come back to MI6 to get you?”

_ Yes!  _ He wanted to yell. He felt isolated, although it wasn’t James’ or Q’s fault. Besides, what could he do with James? Alec would end up parked in the garage with only the Aston for company. “No, Q said he had some more ideas for mods. I might as well stay here.”

“I see.” Was he imagining the sadness in James’ voice? He must have, because James continued, “We can at least talk for a bit, if you  want?”

“I’d like that.” He mentally settled back, and they talked about nonsense as James returned to the flat and got ready for bed.

At last, James paused for a moment. Tension built as silence filled the airwaves between them, until he said, “Alec, I...”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I do, too.”

James heaved a sigh over the earwig, as if relieved he understood . “Yes.”

The link closed down.

Right. What to do now? He didn’t really feel the need to sleep any more, although that nightmare proved that he might experience  _ some  _ sort of sleep, or at least lack of consciousness. He probably had a couple more hours before he could expect Q to arrive. Fortunately the Quartermaster was a notoriously early riser. Reluctantly, he chose another of the audioplays and settled in for a long wait, hoping there’d be no repeat of his nightmare.

* * *

It wasn’t much later that a series of beeps from the regular bay door to the rest of MI6 intruded upon his reverie. He mentally shook himself into alertness as the door opened and the Quartermaster stepped  through, activating the bay’s automatic lights.

“Alec?”

“Everything all right, Q? I wasn’t expecting to see you for another couple of hours.” Had something gone seriously wrong with the date, and James hadn’t wanted to tell him? Alec watched as Q’s face grew red. Interesting. Maybe the date had gone  _ better  _ than James had let on? But if it had, why hadn’t James stayed the night with Q?

“Yes, everything is fine,” Q said, ducking his head rather adorably. “I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?”

“ Other than being a car?” he snarked. Then he hesitated. He’d wanted to tell Q, hadn’t he? Here was his opportunity. “I’ve… I had a nightmare. I think.”

Q walked toward him and leaned a hip against the nearest worktable, a question on his face. “I thought you didn’t sleep anymore?”

“I haven’t been. At least, I don’t think I have been. But I definitely experienced something.” He described everything, including the terror he’d felt at being underwater, unable to breathe.

Silence filled the bay for a few minutes as Q contemplated what he had said. After a few false starts, Q finally managed, “Have you ever experienced, erm, near drowning before? Or, erm…” Q trailed off  uncertainly.

“ Waterboarding, you mean,” Alec said bluntly. “No. And I haven’t done it to anyone, either. No water-based trauma in any way. I actually love diving, in fact. Or used to.”  _ Hmmm.  _ That was an idea. “Since I can’t do it anymore, you should take James to the shore. He’s quite good in the water himself.”

This time the silence took on an almost embarrassed air as Q absorbed the suggestion. “Ah, yes. That might… that might be interesting. In the future. Erm. Anyway. We never found your body. There was a river below where your car was found. Perhaps… Maybe you’re remembering dying?”

The question startled him. He didn’t  _ feel  _ dead. But if he was still alive, why did he feel as though being the Jaguar was as normal as being human had been? “I don’t know. Am I a ghost, then?”

“I’ve been trying to avoid that question,” Q said ruefully. “I have no idea. There’s really no evidence for the supernatural, you know.”

“And yet, here I am.”

Q chewed his lip pensively. “And yet,” he agreed.

Somewhat desperate to change the subject, Alec injected a bit of innuendo into his voice and asked, “Did you enjoy your date?” 

Seeing Q blush again prompted him to mischief, and the Moody Blues. Soon, music filled the quiet of the bay. “Nights in white satinnnnn, never seeming to ennnnd —”

“No, turn that off, Alec, I mean it.” Q  pushed off the worktable and rushed forward, hands outstretched, as if reaching for the radio.

“All right,” he chuckled, snapping off the music. 

Q immediately relaxed, but still watched him, looking faintly uncomfortable. “Stop with the teasing, please? All we did was kiss a little.”

“Oh.” Well, he  _ had  _ wanted James to get closer to the Quartermaster, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry, Q. I won’t tease you anymore.”

“Good.” Q stood there, watching him for a moment. Then said softly enough Alec had to strain to hear it, “I would have liked kissing you, too, you know. Before, I mean.”

That did make him feel warm inside. “I would have liked that, too.”

Q nodded, smiling softly at him for a moment, then straightened. “Right then, as long as  I’m here, I have a few things I want to try —” 

* * *

Marlena Morningstar, 005, sauntered into the mechanic’s bay. She was tall, easily the same height as Q even without her high heels, and walked with a Double O’s characteristic swagger — all self-confidence and grace. Alec had liked her; Marlena was a deadly shot and had a keen sense of fun. He had caroused with her before, both with and without James. Now, though, annoyance filled him as she leaned a hip seductively on his fender and smirked at  _ his  _ Quartermaster. 

“I’d heard you were as obsessed with Trevelyan’s old car as Bond, Q, but I didn’t believe it.”

Q looked up from his work on the engine. “Was there something you wanted, 005?”

Alec winced internally, although he couldn’t help but be pleased. Q usually reserved using an agent’s number for when they were in the field. When he brought out an agent’s number at MI6, that agent was treading on thin ice. 

“Just to see if the rumours were true, dear Q,” Marlena smiled. “And to see if you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime. You’ve been out with Bond twice in the last week. I’m  _ much  _ more interesting than he is.”

Q frowned, looking confused. “So you… want to date me now that I’m apparently dating Bond?”

“You’re  _ dating?”  _ One elegant black brow rose. “No one  _ dates  _ Bond. He’s only interested in sex.”

Alec considered dumping Marlena on her pert arse, but Q handled the situation.

“Really, 005?” Q stood, giving her his full attention. “I know you’ve slept with him in the past, as well as with Trevelyan. With at least half the rest of the Double O’s, too, unless I miss my guess.”

“You do.” Marlena smiled like a cat with cream. “I’ve slept with  _ all  _ of them. It’s all in good fun. Bond has probably done the same, at least with the boys not afraid to sleep with other men, and I’d be surprised if he hadn’t convinced most of them, too.”

Alec popped his door open, hitting Marlena’s leg. She flailed, catching herself with a hand on his fender. She cast an uncertain glance at the car, then turned her attention back to the Quartermaster.

Q unsuccessfully muffled a snicker. “I see. So, I go on a date with Bond, and suddenly I intrigue you, is that it?”

“Of course. You didn’t seem interested in anyone before. I have to admit, we were all a bit surprised that you’d be interested in Bond.”

Q shrugged. “I’m a man of hidden depths, 005. Thank you for your interest, but with Bond I have enough on my plate.”

Marlena sighed, her mouth settling into a disappointed moue. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

That did it. Alec emptied his oil pan onto the cement floor, and watched with satisfaction as she jumped back, swearing, to avoid the slick puddle. 

“If that’s all, 005, I need to get back to work.”

“A lot of work,” Marlena growled with a glare at the Jaguar. She turned and left.

* * *

“Is he all ready to go?” This time the Double O striding into the bay as if they owned it was James.

Q looked up from the worktable, where he was going over the Jag’s blueprints again, trying to see where there was enough room to place another modification. “Go where?” 

“James! Are we getting out of here?” Alec’s question came from the speaker set up on the table next to Q. 

James smiled, smug, and gave the Jag’s front quarter panel a possessive caress. “I have a courier run. M ordered me to get out of MI6 for a bit. No idea why, although breaking into his office and hiding model cars — Aston Martins and Jaguars, naturally — might have something to do with it. No sense of humour, that man.”

Alec snickered. “Nice one, James.”

“I did it for you, to keep your memory alive,” James said with a wink at the Jaguar.

Q ignored the byplay. “I thought we had a date tonight.”

“Ah, yes,” James winced, as if he’d forgotten. “I’m sorry. But I need to do  _ something.  _ Would you mind postponing the date until we get back?” 

Missions always came first, even ones that were basically punishment, and objecting because one interfered in his love life was pointless. “And you want to take Alec along?”

“Yes. M said, and I quote, ‘Get the hell out of here and take that damn Jaguar with you.’ Besides, it’s a simple mission. Just a quick out and back, really. Alec’s a Double O. He’s wasted hanging around here, gathering dust.”

He understood James’ desire to get back into the field, but he had no intention of letting Alec go too. They still hadn’t adequately explained that nightmare, let alone figure out how Alec was inhabiting the Jaguar in the first place. Besides, there were a few modifications he wanted to make. “He’s not  _ gathering dust.  _ I’m doing necessary upgrades —”

James scoffed. “Upgrades you wouldn’t do if he were a regular vehicle. He’s a Double O, or he was. He doesn’t need all that. He needs to get out into the field again. Right Alec?”

Sensing he might not have Alec’s full support on this, Q hurriedly said, “Machine guns! And maybe a flame thrower.” He immediately had the pair’s full attention. James eyed him with interest, and Alec — he wasn’t sure how he knew, but he thought the Jaguar was completely focused on him, too. “I don’t have the plans drawn up yet —” 

“Oh.” Disappointment flickered across James’ face. “In that case, you can work on the plans while we’re gone.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Alec said cheerfully, popping open the Jaguar’s door for James. 

“You can do your upgrades then.” James grinned at him and slid into the driver’s seat.

The bay’s vehicle door slid open, and Q watched the two Double O’s until they were out of sight. 

With a sigh, he pushed the button to close the bay door. He was still worried about Alec’s nightmare, and he really did have more work planned for the Jag. 

But they were right — they were Double O’s, and he couldn’t keep Alec penned away from the action. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more unexplained periods of unconsciousness. 

At least now Q had ample proof of what his two Double O’s would like as gifts. Anything with a lot of firepower. He considered that thought for a moment and then amended it. Anything with a lot of firepower or could go  _ boom. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' simple courier mission turns into a dangerous chase, while memories, dreams, and nightmares offer some clues to what happened to Alec.

Alec sped down the mountain, a black SUV chasing him. It was a BMW X5, the same as the one he’d seen earlier, when he’d stopped for gas and a much-needed coffee. He pressed the brake going into a turn, then hit the gas, cranking the steering wheel as he did, powering around the curve so he shot out of it going faster. Hopefully, whoever was driving the chase car hadn’t perfected that little trick. As much as he loved his Jaguar, it wasn’t built for mountain roads. The SUV had the advantage here. He chose the next turn at random, this time angling up. 

The SUV was no longer in his rear view mirror, so he risked a look back. Nothing.  _ Good.  _ He needed to get to James. He’d left his partner with the smugglers, who were already suspicious of them both. He wasn’t sure how long James’ cover would last, but one of them had needed to meet with the buyers. His eyes flickered toward the alumium briefcase full of cash, checking that it was still safe and sound on the passenger seat of his Jag. He looked up and swore, swerving wildly around a deer in the middle of the road. He grabbed at the briefcase to stop it from falling off the seat, but was a fraction too slow. His fingertips brushed metal, unable to find purchase, as momentum pulled at the briefcase. He cursed as it caromed off the door and fell into the passenger side footwell. He’d have worry about it later. He blinked his eyes as the road momentarily went out of focus.  _ What the hell? _

He had no time to puzzle that out, because a revving engine came from behind him. It was the damned SUV again. He hit the gas, needing two tries when his foot slipped heavily from the pedal.  _ What was wrong with him? _ He cranked the wheel, fishtailing into another turn, but the SUV was closing faster. 

Downward again. He had to get off the mountain. The longer it took, the longer James was in danger. He grabbed his mobile, speed-dialing the only number programmed. As it rang, the mobile fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. He grabbed for it, but it hit the floorboard and bounced into the briefcase, disconnecting the call.  _ Shit.  _

Dizziness washed over him once more, and that decided him. He had to get off the road, find somewhere to hide, until whatever was affecting him passed. He would be no good to James if he crashed. The mobile rang, and he had to ignore it. He’d call back after he found somewhere safe. Hopefully James wouldn’t be too worried. The Jag skidded around another curve, losing traction on the loose gravel. Maybe taking back roads had been a bad idea. 

A truly bad idea, because the SUV was somehow stopped ahead of him in the middle of the road. How had it gotten there before him? He cursed his slowed reaction time as he tried to spin into a U-turn. Instead, the Jag drifted too far into the oncoming lane, crossing it, and jumped the ditch beside the road and into a tree. His teeth slammed together with the force of the sudden stop, then his skull bounced against the window and everything grayed out.

Footsteps crunched through the gravel outside his car. He opened his eyes, confused. Why was everything was at an angle? Muffled voices came from outside the car, becoming louder when his door opened. He slumped to the side without its support, held in the car only by his seatbelt. He struggled to focus on what they were saying, but a sharp sting on his neck brought the darkness ever closer. Adrenaline spiked, trying and failing to fight off whatever they’d injected him with.  _ No!  _ He had to get away! What would happen to James?

* * *

Alec woke, momentarily disoriented. He tried to move, but realized he was still inhabiting the Jaguar. He’d had another dream. At least this one felt like a memory, not a nightmare. Why had he slept? He was a car, he shouldn’t be getting tired. He checked the clock. 0623. Good, he hadn’t lost too much time. James was still meeting with the contact to get the package they were transporting back to MI6. He needed to pay attention, though, just in case James needed backup.

He looked around himself, using the cameras Q had installed, giving him a kind of 360 degree vision. It was odd — it seemed natural to see all around him, even when he  _ knew  _ that he should only be able to see in one direction at a time. There were no changes. He was still parked on a side street just outside a small park. Not much traffic, either. Only a few other vehicles or pedestrians. Boring, in fact. But that very quiet made it the perfect place for a meet.

His thoughts drifted back to his desperate race to get away from the black SUV. He didn’t know how it had gotten in front of him to block the road. Could there have been a second SUV? Herding him into an ambush? Given his delayed reactions and dizziness, he’d been drugged, probably when he stopped for coffee and gas. But why? He hadn’t sensed any unusual interest in him or his mission. What had prompted someone to drug and kidnap him?

“Alec?”

“Hmmm?” He dragged his attention away from his internal musing and saw that James had returned from the meeting with their contact. Their courier run was simple; meet with the contact and receive the package, then return with it to MI6. Rather like before, in fact, when he’d gone to bring the case of money back to James. The similarity brought with it the chilling thought that he could be attacked again. How could he protect James if that happened?

“Alec!”

He realized that James was still waiting for him to respond, looking increasingly worried. “Sorry, I was just woolgathering.”

The worry on James’ face shifted to curiosity.  _ “Do _ cars gather wool?” he asked, as he opened the car door and got in.

“This one does,” Alec said with a laugh, attempting to pass off the incident as nothing of interest. He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded, so he asked, “How did the meet go?”

“Well enough, but Latham was twitchy.”

That didn’t sound good. At least James was now buckled into the driver’s seat, safe inside him. “Do we need to be concerned?”

James hesitated, considering, then shrugged. “No more than usual. Latham’s always been a nervy bastard.”

“True.” His engine started and they pulled away from the kerb, headed back to England and MI6.

_ Why hadn’t he told James about his, what, dream? Memory? _ Yeah, memory seemed right. He and James shared everything, and that included anything that might impact their performance while on a mission. So, why not tell James? He’d already told Q about the first one. He snorted to himself. It really wasn’t a big deal, was it? He could always tell James later.

* * *

_ Pain!  _

_ Lightning bolts shot through his body. He thrashed, trying to get away but the pain came from every direction. James! James had been there, hadn’t he? They were somewhere, on a mission. He needed to find — Blinding pain set his nerve endings on fire, and he tried to scream, but no noise came out. He panted harshly, aware that the sound seemed distorted, as if he were under water. Where was he? He opened his eyes and —  _

Alec came alert, aware that someone —  _ James —  _ was cranking the steering wheel, sending the car sliding into a turn.

“Damn it, Alec, what the fuck is going on, where are you?” James cursed as he accelerated out of the curve, bullets pinging against the Jag’s bullet resistant paint.

Who was shooting at them? Alec must have asked that aloud.

“There you are.” He could hear equal amounts of relief and anger in James’ voice. “I don’t know. They just turned up. After the package, no doubt.”

Alec was relieved to note that the SUV after them was a Peugeot of some sort, not a BMW like the one in his memory. Still black, but that was a common color. Did it have any significance?

“Do you have the wheel,” James demanded, cutting in on his thoughts.

_ Damn it.  _ “Yes.” He could analyze later. He needed to pay attention now.

James opened the window, twisting around to fire at the SUV.

Alec concentrated on keeping the Jag stable so James could shoot.  _ Shit.  _ Something in the road ahead. An explosive? “Hang on, swerving!” He didn’t wait for a response, just swung wide, maneuvering around the debris caught in the middle of the road.

It was only a plastic bottle, but it gave him an idea. He had a reservoir of extra fuel that Q had installed while making his upgrades. He opened a valve, mixing air into the gas, then activated the nozzle, sending the mixture cascading down, creating a puddle in the road. When the reservoir was empty, he closed the nozzle and sped away, severing the link. “James! Shoot the puddle!”

The sound of a bullet ricocheting off the asphalt was the only response, followed soon after by the  _ fwoof  _ of an explosion. The SUV tipped up on two wheels and went sailing over the side of the hill, exploding in mid-air.

Alec slowed to a more reasonable, legal speed. “Who were they?”

“No way of knowing,” James said shortly. “There won’t be any evidence left after that.”

“Shit. M won’t be pleased.”

“At least we’re alive.” James was silent for a moment. “You want to tell me what happened back there?”

_ Fuck. _

* * *

“Excuse me, Quartermaster?” The soft words were accompanied by a gentle tap on the door frame.

Q looked up from his workstation. He had booked one of the smaller labs off the main area of Q-Branch to do some tinkering. On a project that had absolutely nothing to do with a Jaguar called Alec, or a Double O called Bond. It certainly wasn’t meant to be a distraction while the two were on a mission. “Yes, Dorothy?”

She smiled at him, seemingly relieved that he wasn’t upset at being interrupted. “007 is on the comm line for you. I can route the call in here, if you’d like?”

Worry spiked. Of course it would be 007.  _ Stop it,  _ he told himself sharply. It didn’t mean there was a problem. “Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll get it right away, sir.” She gave an embarrassed duck of her head and fled.

Q sighed. Dorothy Miller was an excellent technician and had a way with code that was beautiful, but she’d only been with MI6 for a few months and was still a bit shy. He’d have to keep a closer eye on her to make sure she was settling in. He went to the computer in the corner and logged in, then waited for the communications program to ping. He opened it, and a box appeared on screen, showing a decidedly grim 007 seated in the Jag’s driver’s seat. His stomach sank. Something had definitely gone wrong. “Q here. Report, 007.”

_ “We _ have something to tell you,” Bond said, his eyes flicking to the dashboard as he emphasized  _ we _ .

That did not bode well. Bond had developed a habit of addressing the center of the dashboard as if that was where Alec’s presence lay. With a sense of trepidation, Q activated his privacy software. “Go ahead. The line is secure.”

“Alec has been having episodes —”

Q sat up straight and interrupted. “Episodes  _ plural?  _ He’s had another one?” They hadn’t been able to figure out why Alec had the first nightmare. A second might be the clue they needed. Although apparently Bond hadn’t been aware of the first episode — Q didn’t miss the sharp look Bond sent towards the dashboard before turning back to spear him through the camera.

“What does that mean, ‘another one’?” Bond growled, his ice blue eyes turning arctic.

“It was a nightmare or something,” Alec said, sounding almost sheepish. “The first one, anyway. The second one was definitely a memory, Q. I remembered the accident. I didn’t die — I was kidnapped.”

Q listened as Alec described racing down a mountain, drugged, chased by unknowns before crashing to a stop. The unknowns had pulled him from the wreck of the Jaguar and knocked him unconscious. “They had to have targeted you earlier.”

“Yes.”

“Why? It wasn’t for the money you had with you. The briefcase hadn’t been touched when Bond got to the car.”

Bond’s lips thinned at the reminder of finding Alec’s crashed Jaguar but no Alec. The shouting match that had occurred afterwards when M ordered him to return to MI6 had been legendary. “Obviously they wanted  _ him.” _

“And that means you might still be alive somewhere, and not an actual ghost haunting the Jag.” Q had to admit to a certain amount of relief. Technology was obviously the answer, not something from the spirit world. But how was it done? He sorted through several different possibilities. Telekinesis, remote control, some sort of relay system… all of which had glaring flaws — wait. “You mentioned episodes, plural, and you didn’t know about the first. Was there another one?”

“We were almost killed. A group of unknowns chased us in a SUV, shooting at us. Alec had just... stopped responding, right before they showed up.”

“SUV? Like —” 

“No,” Alec interrupted. “This one was a Peugeot. Not sure of the model, 2008 or 3008. The ones that kidnapped me were in a BMW X5. We’d been on the road for about an hour, and suddenly I was somewhere dark, floating again. Like in the first nightmare. Only this time, it felt like electric shocks hitting me.”

“Is that all?”

Bond huffed. “He came back when I was trying to get us away from whoever was chasing us. After we did, I made him tell me what happened — and it happened again.”

“It wasn’t as bad,” Alec said, sounding uncertain. From the way Bond’s mouth tightened, Alec wasn’t telling something about whatever he might have felt.

“He said the second time was intense sound, rather than shocks, but still painful. That’s three episodes in the space of only a few hours, not including the first one.”

“I don’t like the way they seem to be happening more frequently.” Q put up his hand to forestall the outburst he could see Bond preparing. “Yes, I realize you’re not happy about it either. Given that we have no idea how or why they happen, or how to prevent a recurrence, do you think you two can get back to MI6 safely?”

“As long as no one else chases us,” Bond muttered darkly.

A thought occurred to Q. “And you’re  _ sure  _ they weren’t the same ones that kidnapped you, Alec? How did you get away from them?”

“We can’t be sure. Not enough left of them to identify.” Bond’s satisfied smile turned vicious. “At least this group won’t be a problem anymore.”

Q hid a shudder. While he appreciated his agents’ bloodthirstiness in theory, when faced with the reality, he could get uncomfortable.

“Your upgrades helped immensely,” Alec cut in. “The bullet resistant paint worked perfectly, and the spare reservoir of gas helped create an excellent fireball.”

“That’s something, at least.” Q seized the opportunity to focus on something practical. “I’ll have to check your paint for damage and refill the reservoir when you get back.”

“I was going to say it should take another four or five hours to get back, but we’re going to back track a bit, see if we can find out anything about whoever was chasing us. At the very least, we’ll make sure we have no other tails. And we’ll go slow, in case Alec has any other incidents. We’ll see you tomorrow night. 007 out.”

“Good luck.” Q snapped off the comm line and opened a browser. He had some investigating to do.

* * *

Q checked over his notes. There had to be something, some clue, that could lead to Alec’s body. The dreams that Alec had reported suggested he’d been kidnapped rather than killed, and the increasing number of episodes indicated he might still be alive. But where? There were no detectable signals linking Alec’s consciousness in the Jaguar to wherever his body was hidden.

Could it be some sort of psychic energy? As much as Q hated to admit it, he had experienced some odd things in his life that couldn’t be easily explained by science. He shook his head. That might be something to pursue another day. Psychic energy or not, he still couldn’t track it. He needed to find another way to locate Alec’s body.

Hmmm…. From the way Alec had described the kidnapping, the kidnappers knew what they were doing. That could mean they had practice. Which meant, if he checked the surrounding area for other missing persons, he just might find some similar disappearances.

Three hours later, Q sat up and stretched. If he was right… He picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, Eve. Put me on Mallory’s calendar, now. No, I don’t care who he’s meeting with. This is more important.” He waited, then smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be right up.” He rang off and grabbed his tablet. Everything he needed should have copied automatically from his computer. After double-checking all his evidence was there, he left the office.

He stopped only once on his way to the executive suite. 005 was in the office area shared by the Double O’s. He had a quiet word with her and continued up to see  Mallory.

* * *

“Q!” Eve got up from her desk and stood in front of M’s door, blocking the way. “Tanner is in with Mallory now. They’re ready for you, but you have to tell me,” her face was alive with curiosity as she lowered her voice. “What’s going on? You never call and demand a meeting with M.”

He felt a momentary pang of guilt — Eve was his friend and he’d deliberately kept her in the dark with what had been going on with James and Alec. “I can’t tell you right now. Maybe later.”

Eve huffed, disappointed, but let him pass with a warning look. “Tonight. Drinks at mine.”

Q smiled at her. “All right,” he agreed. “Tonight.” He really had been neglecting his friendships of late. James and Alec had a sort of gravitational pull about them that sucked him in — not that he wanted to fight it. But he couldn’t think of his possible boyfriends now. He took a deep breath and went to explain to M about a haunted Jaguar and a kidnapped agent.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q briefs M and Tanner, and there's a break in the mystery surrounding Alec's disappearance. Q stands firm in the face of executives and Double O's - it's just another day in the office for the intrepid Quartermaster.

Q walked into the office, ready to brief Mallory on his findings. He stopped short just inside the door and eyed the two men waiting for him. They were decidedly  _ not  _ politely waiting for an interesting discussion or a briefing. M sat behind his massive desk, which was more of a prop meant for intimidation than an actual work space. The head of MI6 did most of his work on a laptop, sitting on the couch in the informal seating area where he met with high-level visitors.

“Ah, Quartermaster. I’m so pleased you demanded to see me,” Mallory said, beginning with a bland smile that turned suddenly sharp as any Double O’s with a target in their sight. “Can you explain why you spent half your monthly budget on an unauthorized project to upgrade a deceased agent’s vehicle?”

_ Oops. _ Q snuck a glance at Tanner, standing at Mallory’s shoulder. Chief of Staff for two M’s, Tanner was efficiency personified, and so self-effacing it was easy to forget he was in the room. It was also easy to forget that Tanner had once been 008, and was almost as lethal now as he had been before he’d been sidelined by an injury. Tanner returned his look, wide-eyed, for just a moment before turning back to M. Well. He’d get no support from that quarter, unless he could convince Tanner at the same time as M. 

Q squared his shoulders. It was time for a different approach than he’d planned. “My budget is my own concern to use as I see fit. I negotiated that in my contract with your predecessor. If you wish to renegotiate, I’ll tender my resignation now. I will not have my projects hampered by bureaucracy.”

“Appropriate financial oversight is not mere bureaucracy —” Mallory began, his voice rising in annoyance.

“Sir,” Tanner interrupted, coughing slightly to get M’s attention. “Not a good idea…”

“My projects are worth every penny in development costs, as you well know,” Q snapped. “Now, the reason I’m here is to discuss Trevelyan, not his car.”

Mallory sat back in his chair, folding his arms, a skeptical _ impress me  _ expression on his face. Next to him, Tanner settled into a relaxed stance that called to mind a Double O lying in wait to pounce.

_ Nice try, Bill,  _ Q thought. He had the facts on his side. “Bond came to me with his suspicion that there was something odd about Trevelyan’s presumed death —” Q noted with satisfaction that he had Tanner’s full interest, while Mallory’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “— And the way that his body disappeared so thoroughly from the crash site.”

“There is no way anyone could have survived that crash,” Mallory said, waving his hand dismissively.

“The amount of blood alone,” Tanner murmured with a slight, apologetic shrug that didn’t fool Q for an instant.

“True,” Q said, smiling to himself as the other two men frowned at him. “But Trevelyan couldn’t have been in the Jaguar at the time of that crash. It’s highly unlikely his body would have been thrown clear. I’ve run multiple computer models of the crash, and in all of them, his body would have remained in the vehicle. With the amount of blood lost — and yes, I am aware it was tested and it is Trevelyan’s — he wouldn’t have been able to get up and walk away without assistance.”

“What are you saying?” Mallory asked sharply.

Q took a breath before launching into his presentation. “I’m saying that I did some investigating. I began with the computer simulations, which suggested that there might be something to what Bond pointed out. Trevelyan was likely taken from the vehicle after the crash. Maybe even before the crash, and then the car was deliberately wrecked as a cover up. After that, I looked into disappearances in the local area. Over the last three years, within a fifteen mile radius surrounding Trevelyan’s crash site, there have been twenty-one reports of people going missing. All men, all traveling alone.”

He glanced between M and Tanner to make sure they understood what he was getting at. There had been a lot of missing persons in a relatively small area in a relatively short span of time. It was odd that it was all men, too. If it was random, there should have been some women going missing as well. “Ten of them went missing from their own crash sites. Of those twenty-one missing men, twelve were found dead months later, usually miles away. Five more bodies found haven’t been identified. They might have been among those reported missing, or they might have disappeared with no one to miss them.”

“Presumably some of those missing persons have nothing to do with this, whatever this may be,” M said, challenging him on his interpretation of the data.

“Yes, that is possible,” Q agreed. “However, the most likely explanation is that most of them were kidnapped by a person or persons unknown. Most of the bodies were badly mutilated, and the medical examiner was unable to determine time or cause of death. Some of the damage was caused by wild animals, but eight of the bodies showed extensive time submerged in water." 

He paused for a moment as an image of Alec, tortured and trapped underwater flashed through his entirely too vivid imagination. He shoved the image away so he could finish his report. “There was one body that didn’t quite fit the pattern. The man went missing, but was discovered two days later. He had traces of a strong narcotic in his system. Apparently he died of an allergic reaction, and whoever had taken him dumped his body.”

“You’re sure Trevelyan was kidnapped,” Tanner said, a statement rather than a question.

Q nodded. “And he may still be alive.” Had he gotten Tanner on his side? But he had to remember that the man’s loyalty was to M, first.

“That’s a very thin thread, Quartermaster,” Mallory said, dismissive. “It could all be nothing more than coincidence.”

“And it might not be. I’ve just sent 005 out to take a look around the area.”

_ “You’ve  _ sent?!” Mallory huffed in exasperation. “Of course you have. You don’t have to answer to anyone, do you?”

Q shrugged. “She was bored and there was nothing else coming up for her in the near future. Besides,” he scanned the office and spotted a small car next to one of the bottles in the office bar and walked over to pick it up. “As you well know, a bored Double O can be a handful. She needed a change of scene.”

Tanner gave him a slight nod, hardly more than a dip of his chin, while Mallory closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Is that all, Quartermaster?”

Q thought for a moment and nodded. He’d spring the news of Alec’s consciousness being in the Jaguar another time. “Yes, I believe it is. Good day, M, Tanner. I’ll keep you informed of any further developments.” He turned on his heel to leave.

“One moment,” Mallory said, stopping him. “If you’ve been sending agents out yourself, why did you feel the need to come up here and tell me in the first place?” Mallory almost seemed genuinely curious.

Q turned back and aimed a slight wink at Tanner, then said to Mallory, “Well, sir, you _are _the head of MI6.” 

Tanner’s lips twitched into a slight smile, and Q got out while Mallory sputtered.

* * *

Marlena Morningstar took a sip of her cup of coffee — thick, sweet, and strong. She needed it after a series of last-minute flights across half of Europe the day before. She’d spent the evening investigating, and now with a little surveillance, she would hopefully discover if some of her suppositions were correct. She set the cup down on the table in front of her and took a delicate bite of her pastry, keeping half an ear on the tables around her on the terrace. She had no trouble translating and dismissing the various conversations. Her fellow diners spoke predominantly in German, although she noted some Austrian and Swiss here and there. Her eyes flickered toward the village main street, noting that the truck she had been unobtrusively keeping an eye on was still parked next to the market, receiving supplies.

She adjusted the newspaper on the table and filled in some of the boxes. Fortunately the autumn chill had yet to arrive, and the temperature was still mild. Observers would see only a tourist, relaxing for the day. No one was close enough to see that she was actually writing notes of her surveillance in the puzzle’s tiny squares.

Her investigation had led her to this village, high in the Alps. She had passed the place Trevelyan’s car had been found a few months before. It had been a difficult turn, but she knew it was one Trevelyan should have been able to navigate half-dead and blindfolded. There was no way he would have crashed there, unless he had been drugged.

She kept alert for anything else that might be significant in the town. The truck was from an estate a few kilometers outside the village. She still wasn’t sure who owned the estate, or who was using it, if not the owner. So far it hadn’t seemed overtly suspicious, but there was something about it that set her instincts on edge.

Each week, a few of the estate’s employees ventured into town with a truck and an SUV or two for a bit of a break and for supplies. From what she had been able to find out, the estate’s employees rotated the duties each week, so that each of them would get a chance for a break. No one seemed to know just how many people worked at the estate.

The locals tended to leave the estate employees alone, unless they had business with them. The few tourists around avoided them as well, although that might be less deliberate. The current tour group clustered together walking past the cathedral the village was known for. They all appeared to be normal tourists on a coach tour. Probably Americans, Marlena thought with a sniff. None of them made any effort to blend in.

One young woman — no, with that oversized purple hoodie and sullen slouch she was probably a teen — hung back from the group, leading her to wonder if the girl was actually part of the group. As she watched, though, a man turned and spoke to the girl. When the tour group wandered toward their coach, the girl trailed behind. Marlena dismissed her. A reluctant teenager dragged on holiday with her parents, no doubt.

She refocused on the truck, which was now receiving supplies directly from a delivery van parked by the market.

An hour later, and after two more cups of coffee and a rather a few more pastries than she strictly needed, Marlena was certain that at least four of the six people milling around the truck and SUV were guards. Unless she missed her guess, they were preparing to return to the estate. Three other employees had gone off on their own just after the truck arrived. They should be returning soon, or they’d be left behind. 

That many guards on a supply run indicated there might be more guards at the estate than she had initially supposed. Unfortunately, that meant that it might be too dangerous for her to attempt to sneak onto the truck and gain access to the estate that way.

_ Hmmm…. _ How should she get into the estate? Fake a breakdown in front of the gate? She smiled. A bit of an overdone ruse perhaps, but classics were classic for a reason. 

She put her coffee cup down and added another note on her puzzle as the two vehicles left the village.

* * *

That afternoon, Marlena perched in a tree overlooking the estate. She had a good view of the gate and the front grounds, and of the house that was set back against a large pond. She wanted to reconnoitre before attempting to infiltrate the estate. She was still leaning toward engineering a dramatic breakdown in front of the gate — 

A motor revving in the distance caught her ear. She trained her binoculars up the road in time to see an SUV similar to the ones the estate used rounding the curve.

The elaborate front gate opened, and the SUV turned onto the drive leading into the estate. She expected it to bypass the house to head toward the garage in the rear, just as two other vehicles had in the past hour. Instead, it pulled to a stop at the front steps.

The two passenger side doors, front and rear, opened. Two men — guards, from the look of them — got out and converged on the rear driver’s side door. Guard One opened the door and Guard Two reached in and dragged out a half-conscious individual wearing purple. From the long hair, it was a woman. Marlena focused closer on her face. 

The binoculars blurred then sharpened, revealing a face that Marlena realized she knew. It was the teenager who had been trailing behind the tour group.

The front doors of the house swung open, and two attendants in scrubs emerged with a gurney between them. The guards each took one of the girl’s arms and helped her stumble drunkenly — or possibly drugged? — up the steps. At the top, Two lifted her, as her arms flailed and legs kicked ineffectively, and deposited her on the gurney. He held her arms and One held her legs down while the two attendants tightened straps around her limbs. With that done, the attendants wheeled the gurney into the house while the guards were dismissed to return to the SUV. 

After they got in, the SUV reversed and headed back out the front gate, turning towards the direction from which they’d come.

Marlena chewed her lip thoughtfully. She’d have to find a way to discreetly get information on the tour group to identify the girl. So far, it appeared that she was correct that the estate was at the centre of the disappearances.

* * *

“— but the tour group had no idea who she was. They said that she just followed them around at this one stop.”

“I’ve found no missing person reports for anyone matching her description, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Some of the bodies that turned up weren’t listed as missing either.”

“Do you want me to go in and poke around?”

Q hesitated. “No, observation only. I’ll contact you when I have anything more.”

“I’ll be waiting. 005 out.”

Q turned off the feed. It was time to hack into the estate’s computers and see what he could find.

He spent the next hour tracing lines of connectivity into the estate. It seemed to use double the amount of electricity its size suggested it would require. He was getting frustrated as each of his attempts to hack the estate’s computers was rebuffed. Taken all together, it suggested that something suspicious was definitely going on at the estate. 

Q sent the information to Mallory, who simply responded, “Go ahead and send them in to check it out, you will anyway.” 

M still didn’t know that Alec’s consciousness was inhabiting the Jaguar. Q had a feeling it was better left unrevealed — for now, at least. He checked the time. James and Alec should be returning from their courier run soon.  _ Good.  _ He couldn’t wait to tell them what he and 005 had discovered.

* * *

Q smiled as the bay door rolled open and the roar of a Jaguar’s motor filled his ears. He straightened and turned towards the door, waiting for James and Alec to arrive. He was eager to see their reaction to his news.

The Jaguar pulled up next to him, coming neatly to a stop bare inches from the wall. He shook his head at the theatrics. Alec proved, over and over, that he was still a Double O.

James got out of the car, face thunderous, and the door slammed behind him. 

That startled Q, the smile dropping from his face. Were the two fighting? “What’s wrong?”

_ “Someone,” _ James gritted, fury crackling off him, “No, better make that  _ two  _ someones, decided to withhold vital information that led to near disaster.”

Q blinked. James was still angry about Alec not telling him about the nightmare? But that had been ages ago, hadn’t it? He stopped to think about the sequence of events. Oh. No, it hadn’t. With all he had discovered in the meantime, he was stunned to realize that it had only been yesterday. “Oh. That.”

_ “Oh, that,” _ James mimicked sarcastically. “We both could have been killed. I know it’s in our job description, but I  _ don’t actually have a death wish.” _

That was it. If was going to contemplate a relationship with James, he couldn’t let himself lose control of the situation. He had to head this rant off at the pass. He straightened to his full height, although he was aware James had an inch or maybe two on him. “Good to know,” he said, letting ice seep into his voice. Would that be enough to freeze James’ anger? “That information wasn’t deliberately withheld. It was an isolated incident.” He ignored James’s scoffing. “We had no idea it wasn’t just a one-off. And you know full well that if the tire were on the other foot, you’d have forgotten about it too.”

In the stunned silence that followed his declaration, Alec chuckled. “D- Did you say ‘tire on the other foot’, Q?”

“Erm, yes?” Had it worked? But James was there, staring at the Jaguar, and Q  _ thought  _ he might be a little less angry. “And if you’re done yelling, I have news.”

“What is it?” James still sounded a bit sullen, but he was at least unlikely to begin yelling again.

“I’ve located Alec’s body.”

“What did you say?”

“I found your body.” Q knew he sounded smug, but really, he deserved to be. Not everyone could take the slight clue Alec had given him and build it into a coherent picture of a vast conspiracy in only two days. “And we have a go for the mission to retrieve it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alec head across Europe to meet with Marlena. They have a facility to infiltrate and a body to find. That is, if it all goes to plan...

Half a day later, after driving back across the continent, James and Alec arrived in the town closest to the estate that was their target. James parked near the restaurant where Marlena was waiting for them. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he said, getting out of the Jaguar.

Alec snorted. “It’s not like I really have anywhere to go, James.”

James rolled his eyes. “Fine, just wait for me, then.”

“Always.”

James almost missed a step at the unexpected seriousness in Alec’s tone, but caught himself. “I have the earwig in if you need me.” He hurried away to find Marlena.

He found her on the terrace, waiting for him. 

“About time you got here.” She eyed him, every line of her body proclaiming how uninteresting she found him, but then she flowed out of the chair, cooing, “James, darling, where have you _been? _I’ve been waiting for you.” She embraced him, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “I have a room. We can go up and plan our operation.”

He disentangled himself. “I have a better idea. Do you need anything from your room?” Marlena shook her head, a confused frown on her face. James smirked as he continued, “Let’s go.”

She studied him curiously for a moment, but then she shrugged. “All right.” She fell into step beside him as he led the way back to Alec.

Marlena stopped when she saw the Jaguar. “Isn’t this taking lost partnership too far, James? I know you miss Alec, but…”

James opened the driver’s door and looked over the top of the Jaguar at her. “Just get in. I’ll explain everything.”

She hummed skeptically, but got in on the passenger side. “Well?”

“Patience.” He started the car, ignoring her skeptical snort, and headed out of town. A short while later, he pulled into a wayside clearing.

“You’d better not say we’ve run out of gas,” Marlena mock threatened.

“Not at all. You need to meet the third agent on this mission.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“What?  _ Trevelyan?”  _ Marlena looked from the Jaguar’s console to James in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”

* * *

Fortunately, explanations hadn’t taken long, and Marlena had quickly adapted to the fact that Alec was the Jaguar right now. The three of them had come up with a plan for the operation that had the best chance for success, then James contacted Q. There would be a technician ready to pilot the experimental drone Q had given them before leaving MI6. Q himself would be on standby, still attempting to hack the estate’s computer system.

This time when they drove off, James showed off by allowing Alec to start the engine and do the steering. 

“That is mazing,” Marlena said, shaking her head. “If I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t believe it. It’s like something out of a movie.”

“I didn’t believe it myself, at first,” James admitted.

Alec snorted. “How do you too think I felt, waking up as —”

Silence.

James grabbed the wheel before the car could skid out of control. “Alec?” James traded a worried glance with Marlena.

She nodded her head towards the console. “What’s wrong with him?”

James shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea.” Was this another one of Alec’s episodes? He had no way of knowing. All he could do now was continue with their plan and hope Alec was all right.

He dropped Marlena off at one side of the estate, then drove around to the far side. Alec still hadn’t returned by the time James found a place to pull in. Growing more worried, he tapped his earwig. “Alec?” Still no response. 

“I hear you, at least.” Marlena’s voice came through the earwig clearly. “I’m almost in position.”

James growled, but answered as civilly as he could manage. It wasn’t her fault Alec was apparently incommunicado. “Copy. Two minutes out from target location.” He pulled the Jaguar farther under the cover of the trees, making sure he was out of sight from the road. With a caressing pat to the Jag’s front fender, he slipped into the woods, making for the fence surrounding the estate.

He could almost feel the deadly hum of electricity running through the fence as he approached. He pulled jumper wires and a wire cutter from his cargo pockets, prepared to rig a bypass over a section of the fence. It was time. “Go.”

Marlena answered quietly, “Copy.”

Just as he was about to clip one end of the cable to the fence, the hum of electricity stopped. Baffled, he poked at the now dead wire. Had Q managed to get into the estate’s mainframe and cut power to the fence? He hadn’t thought that his Quartermaster would be able to assist until they’d broken in and were able to access the mainframe onsite. Whatever. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He finished clipping on the bypass — no point in taking risks in case the power came back on suddenly — then cut an opening in the fence, just big enough to squeeze through.

On the other side, he made sure to camouflage the opening with branches from the nearby bushes. No need to make it easy for any of the guards to notice the hole in the fence. When he was done, he checked his watch, noting with satisfaction he was on schedule.  _ Excellent. _

His destination was a small building behind the house. They suspected that there was a complex of subfloors beneath it. Drone surveillance had shown people going into the building and not coming out until much later. Marlena would be infiltrating the house, just in case they were wrong.

Once he arrived at the small building, he scouted around. It mimicked a storehouse, but it was protected by an advanced alarm system with an iris scanner on the only entrance. He hadn’t seen any guards on his trek across the grounds from the fence, which was unexpected, but he didn’t want to stay in the open any longer than necessary. He checked the mechanism, trying to find a way to bypass the system. Nothing. Maybe Q had anticipated this, too, and worked out a way to neutralize the scanner? With another darting look around the surrounding area, he pressed his eye into the cup. There was a click next to him as the door unlocked.  _ Yes!  _ Thank you, Q!

He opened the door and went through into darkness. The next thing he registered was the smell of death. Bodily fluids released, with a faint metallic scent underneath the stench. He blinked several times, willing his eyes to adjust faster to the lack of light, useless as that was. But after only a minute, he realized that there was a dim light coming from the other side of the room, and that it was growing brighter. 

With the increasing light, he could make out several bodies slumped on the floor. What the —? He knelt, checking the one closest to him. The guard was obviously dead, his face flushed dark with blood and stretched into a rictus grin. 

James belatedly recognized the symptoms combined with the metallic smell. Phexasin-7 poisoning. It had originally been developed from an offshoot of an erectile dysfunction medication, but trials were discontinued after scientists discovered that everyone they administered the drug to died horribly. After that, it was quietly placed on a “do not manufacture” list. The question was, how did the people here come across the formula and find a way to aerosolize it?

It was obviously a countermeasure in place to take down intruders in case of discovery. Why had it been triggered before he entered, and with ample time for the poison to disperse safely? His Quartermaster, helping again? “Q?” he muttered quietly, knowing the earwig would pick up his voice, no matter how quiet.

“Problems, 007?” It was Marlena, equally quiet.

He hesitated. “Not as such. Just… unusually easy breaking in.”

“Agreed. Perhaps we have an ally?”

His eyes widened. Could it be Alec, somehow? But that made as little sense as their mysterious helper being Q. “Possibly.”

“Keep your head in the game, Bond. Don’t let it make you overconfident.”

“Teach Grandma to suck eggs.”

Marlena's laughter floated over the earwig, accompanied by a quiet, “Copy.”

Dismissing the dead bodies as unimportant for now, James looked across the room to identify where the light was coming from. It was an elevator, standing invitingly open. He snorted. As if he would risk an elevator into the unknown. There had to be a stairwell somewhere nearby — ah. There. 

His lips stretched into a shark grin as he checked the door and found it unsecured. The stairwell was well lit, and when he looked over the railing, he could see it appeared to stretch down several levels, with two landings and switchbacks per level. He cautiously descended.

He paused at each landing, straining his ears for any sound disturbing the silence, before descending to the next. He reached for the doorknob on the first subfloor. His fingers had just touched the metal of the knob when an alarm began blaring, accompanied by a strobing warning light. He drew his pistol and cursed. He was sure he hadn’t tripped any alarms. Had Marlena been discovered? Or had their mysterious ally made a mistake?

Well, there was no help for it. He opened the door and led with his pistol aimed in front of him, in case he ran into a guard. No shouts or sounds of running feet greeted him, so he relaxed minutely, pointing his pistol at the ceiling while he scanned the corridor. It could have been in any building anywhere on Earth — bog-standard beige walls, off-white tile floor, random grey cabinets and wooden doors. Other than the alarm and blinking strobe light, it seemed still. He left the dubious shelter of the stairwell to investigate. No light showed under the doors that lined the corridor. 

“There’s nothing there.”

The unexpected voice coming through his earwig made him jump, no matter how welcome that voice was. “Alec?! What happened to you?”

“I’m… here. In the computer system, somehow. It’s taken me a bit to work out how to make things happen, but I got a few things figured out. ”

“You released the gas in the storeroom.”

“Yes, and cut power to the fence.  _ James!  _ Look sharp!”

He spun at the warning, in time to see several guards spilling out of the elevator. There was no time to crow about being right as shots rang out and he dove behind a cabinet. He waited until the flurry of bullets died down, then popped out, aiming and firing in a single motion. The sure knowledge of a pair of precise hits filled him as he ducked back into cover.

“Three left,” Alec whispered in his ear.

“Thanks,” he murmured. He thought quickly. He was outnumbered still. How to even the odds? His eyes fell on the cabinet he was sheltering behind, and he grinned. 

James shoved at the cabinet with all his weight, feeling it teeter. It reached its tipping point and he leapt back, bringing up his pistol once more. The resulting crash distracted the guards just long enough for him to place three more direct hits into them. Each of the guards went down like a sack of bricks.

He was panting slightly as he waited, stretching his senses for hints of further opposition. “Anyone else out there, Alec?”

“No. I think that’s it.  _ Damn it!” _

“Alec?” James asked, startled at the outburst.

“Just a minute.”

“Bond? Can you hear me now?” Marlena broke in, terse. “Was that Trevelyan? I’ve cleared the house. Two guards dead, and one other who looked like a scientist. He suicided after I killed the guards. Shall I come to your location?”

James waited, but Alec didn’t respond. “Yes. Be wary, I don’t know how many are left.”

“Copy.”

Then Alec spoke again, sounding bitter. “Two helicopters just took off. I couldn’t stop them. And I think one of them took out our drone as it left.”

“Damn.”

* * *

James searched the rooms along the first subfloor, growing more frustrated. Alec remained silent. He had told James that he was searching for more information. There were too many gaps in the computer system that he couldn’t access, and his control of the communication system was spotty enough that if he was talking to James through the earwig, then Marlena couldn’t.

He was almost glad Alec wasn’t exactly present and was concentrating on the computers. The second room James searched was an operating theater. He felt like he was about to be sick. What procedures had occurred there? What had they done to Alec? 

The remaining rooms on that floor proved to be a series of labs, all showing signs of hasty departure, but complete destruction of equipment. Whoever these people were, they were well trained. 

Marlena joined him as he prepared to head down a level. In silent agreement, they used the stairs to descend to the next subfloor. 

This level had generic artwork framed on the walls, of the sort found in three-star hotel rooms. With the blue and brown color scheme, random couches, and dark tile on the floor, it looked as though it might be intended as a living area. Most of the doors were standing open. 

Marlena turned left, while James went to the right and looked into one of the rooms. A bedroom. Bed rumpled, dresser drawers pulled open… whoever had stayed here had left in a hurry.

“Dining room here,” Marlena said, her voice coming from the hallway as well as echoing over the earwig. 

“I’ve got a bedroom. I wonder if —” James looked into the next room. This one had two sets of bunk beds. “No, this one was probably a bunkroom.” 

“Industrial kitchen,” came the response. “They were in the middle of cooking. Looks like meatloaf. Good thing they turned off the ovens. It’s odd, though.”

“Why is that?” James went to the next door and found it locked. He frowned and quickly picked the lock, listening to Marlena with half an ear.

“Everything is cold. Did they know we were coming? They must have been packing up to leave at the same time we were breaking in.”

“Unknown. Maybe Alec can figure it out?” He waited, but there was no answer breaking into their channel.  _ Damn.  _ He shoved down his worry and opened the door. The room behind it was stark and bare, with only a cot and toilet. A few clothes — jeans, a t-shirt with the logo of some band he didn’t recognize, a purple hoodie — were scattered on the floor, abandoned. “They had at least one prisoner here.” Whoever it was hadn’t gone easily. There was a trail of dried blood from the bed to the middle of the floor. “Gone now, taken somewhere. Wheelchair, maybe?”

“Gurney? They have at least one.”

He hummed in agreement and turned back to rejoin Marlena where she waited at the stairwell. “No sign of Alec.”

“There’s one more sub level,” she noted, an encouraging lilt in her voice.

James nodded. “Let’s go down.”

Marlena put her hand on his arm. “We’ll find him.”

He didn’t answer, just glanced at her before shaking off her hand. Then he led the way to the stairwell. He knew they’d find Alec. They had to.

* * *

They came out of the stairwell onto the final subfloor, ready for anything. They hadn’t seen any signs of more guards, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Just as in the level above, they split up, with Marlena taking one end of the hallway while he took the other.

This hallway was wider than the one above, with sets of double doors whose spacing indicated the space behind was vast. For a complex hewn from a mountain, such an undertaking indicated a huge outlay of money and effort.

James stopped at the set of doors closest to him. Hoping for an answer, but not expecting one, he asked, “Are you here?”

“I’m assuming you’re not talking to me,” Marlena said, sounding amused.

Disappointed, James snapped, “Just keep searching,” and shot a scowl down the hallway at Marlena. She waved cheerily at him in a two-finger salute and disappeared into one of the rooms. He grumbled to himself and he tried the doorknob in front of him. It turned easily. He positioned himself so that he could aim into the room as he entered, using the door to shield him from the inside. Nothing. It looked like a storeroom, piled with boxes. A little disappointed, he closed the door and went further down the hall. 

As he reached the next door, Alec spoke up.

“I… I think you’re getting closer. Not that door, but close by?”

James ignored the surge of relief at hearing Alec’s voice. “How do you know?”

“I don’t. But now it feels like you’re near me.”

James looked around at the remaining doors opening off the hallway. Neither of them had knobs, only keypads. He chose one. “This one?”

“...No.”

“This one?”

“I… yes. That one. Let me…” The keypad beeped several times. “Got it.”

The door slid open with a rush of cool air. “Thank you, Alec. Alec?” No answer. 

“Do you want me to join you?” At the other end of the hallway Marlena had turned and was watching him. 

“No, finish your search.” Satisfied that she would keep looking, to make sure there were no nasty surprises anywhere, James entered the room.

It was dimly lit and quiet save for the sounds of… gurgling? Something dripped in the distance. His footsteps echoed as he went deeper into the room. Overhead lights came on automatically as he went forward, and turned off again as he passed. Medical equipment stationed around the edges of the room whirred and clicked. There wasn’t the destruction here as there had been in the levels above. Lack of time? Or some other reason? Thick cables ran along the floor, connecting the equipment to four plinths spaced evenly throughout the room. Each plinth had a clear tank on top, resembling macabre fish tanks. One was dark and empty, but the remaining three were lit. They were filled with liquid, and floating inside each one was a figure he couldn’t quite make out. He knew, without a doubt, that one of them would be Alec. 

The one closest to him was standing open, as if whatever had been inside it had been used and discarded. Its interior was damp, with a faint smell of brine and chemicals. The number 12 was etched on a metal plate attached to the plinth.

He stopped at the first lit tank. The plate attached to the plinth identified it as 11. “Is this you?” He peered into the murky liquid. The figure floating inside turned as it bobbed inside the tank. James recoiled as it floated close enough to the side for him to make out the pale, rotting flesh. At least the tank meant he couldn’t smell it. And it wasn’t Alec. 

He crossed the room to the next lit tank. This one’s plinth was marked with the number 15, and the liquid inside was less murky. The nude figure floating inside was alive this time, with a shaved head marred by cuts sutured closed. She was a young woman, which seemed odd. Q had been sure all the kidnap victims had been men. Perhaps she was the one Marlena had seen? A mask with a hose attached to it obscured most of her face, and wires snaked out of her skull from wounds that looked fresh and raw, all leading to the top of the tank, where the thick cable was attached. Other wires and smaller tubes, standard life support gear, he supposed, were attached to other places on her body. He turned away and looked toward the only lit tank left, on the other side of the room. Alec. It had to be.

“Yes.”

“About bloody time you said something else,” James muttered under his breath as he crossed the room. The tank, like the one 15 floated in, was filled with an almost clear liquid. As he approached, he could tell that the figure drifting inside was clearly male.

“Well, I’m sorry, James,” Alec snarked. “This is confusing. I knew my body was in this room, but _ I  _ am not. I’m in the computer system, remember? I don’t have all the control I did with the Jag. There’s parts of the system that are locked down so thoroughly I can’t access them.”

This plinth was marked 14. James put his hand on the tank and peered closer at Alec’s floating body. His head had obviously been shaved, like 15’s, but enough time had passed that his hair looked like it was just growing out of a buzz cut. Alec would hate that. He preferred his hair on the longer side of almost out of regulations. And just like 15, he had a breathing mask and wires coming out of his head. James began checking the tank for some kind of release mechanism. “How do I open this? I need to get you out of here.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” he snapped, suddenly furious. He  _ knew  _ what Alec was going to say next, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“It might kill me.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James, Q, and Marlena discover the complex leaves them with more questions than answers. The most important question for James is how to remove Alec safely from the tank.

Q stared at the carnage as they walked through the hallway. “I thought I told you to leave some of them alive for questioning.”

James shrugged. “They got what they deserved.”

“Perhaps, but they would have had details of what the group here was trying to do. Something we haven’t been able to figure out yet, remember? We don’t even know who they were.”

“I’m sorry, Q, but they were rather insistent that I leave,” James said dryly. “I was rather insistent that I stay.”

“So you insisted them all to death,” Q said sourly.

“They were all guards,” James said dismissively. Even if he’d found any of the scientists, he doubted they’d be willing to talk. Marlena had found only one of them, and he’d taken cyanide rather than be captured alive. That and the helicopters that had gotten away hinted at the existence of a larger organization.

Q sighed as they walked into the tank room. “With Alec in their system, it was easy enough for me to get into their mainframe, but most of their records have been destroyed. I have no idea why they were doing this.”

MI6’s Chief Medical Officer, Carys Wysong, looked up as they approached and scoffed. “Their surviving physical records are no better. They seem to have input all their readings directly into the computer. Bastards erased everything they could and shredded anything they couldn’t when they left. We don’t even know the identity of that poor girl.”

James spoke up before Q could respond. “Can you safely get Alec out of the tank?” That was the only thing he cared about.

Q shot him an annoyed glance at getting cut off, but Dr Wysong pursed her lips in thought. “Possibly,” she finally said.

“Bond, go make yourself useful elsewhere,” Q snapped.

In other words, he was in the way. Just as he was about to argue, a blinking light caught his eye. He used his most charming smile. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me, Quartermaster, Doctor Wysong.” As he left, his earpiece connected to the microphone on the console. He would be able to hear every word Q and Dr Wysong spoke.

Q hesitated, then called out, “Bond, wait.”

James stopped at the door and turned, making sure he had a blandly polite smile on his face. “Yes, Quartermaster? Was there something you wanted?”

Q glanced back at Dr Wysong, who appeared more interested in the equipment than with them, then took James’ elbow and turned them both so their backs were to her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about Alec. I’m worried about him too. We’re going to do our best, you know.”

James sighed at the mute plea for understanding in Q’s eyes. He darted a glance at Wysong, who was still decidedly  _ not  _ paying attention to them, and took the risk as well as one of Q’s hands, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know.” And he really did. This was why he was shite at relationships with anyone but Alec. He always cocked them up somehow. He hadn’t even gotten a proper relationship going with Q yet and already things were falling apart. 

“Oh. Erm, good.” Q flushed a little, his hazel eyes dropping to James’ lips and then back up.

James was tempted, but not with Wysong there. He bent close to Q’s ear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, shall I?”

“Ye— Yes, I think that will be perfectly acceptable,” Q stammered, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” James purred, giving Q’s hand another little squeeze, and left. If he hurried, he could find the spot Alec where would route the audio of Q’s and Wysong’s conversation before they said anything he’d miss. He adjusted his trousers a bit. He’d have to plan something appropriate for that evening. 

* * *

James went out into the hallway. Where should he go? He spotted a light over one of the doors at the other end of the hall flash on and he headed towards it. 

The room behind that door turned out to be a conference room, complete with a heavy table, TV screen on the wall, and comfortable chairs. He smirked. If anyone chanced to look in, he’d appear to be taking a nap, not spying on coworkers.

James slouched in one of the chairs and the TV flared to life, showing Q and Dr Wysong talking in the tank room.

“Thank you, Alec.”

“You’re welcome.” His partner’s voice came from a speaker set into the middle of the table. 

On the screen, Q leaned over, peering at something Dr Wysong showed him.

* * *

“Given that Agent Trevelyan has been getting around in their computer system, I suspect that the group’s goal was some sort of remote human-computer interface,” Dr Wysong said.

Q glanced sharply at her. “We can’t tell M that. He’ll want to start full-scale experimentation of his own. We still haven’t told him that Trevelyan inhabited the Jaguar. I’ve found nothing to suggest this group even considered that as a possibility.”

She nodded. “But he does know now that Trevelyan is accessing the computer? Tell him the goal was solely distance control of mechanical objects, and the computer interface was accidental.”

“That’s possible. I think I can come up with something there. And now that I have hints that it’s possible for someone to access computers with their mind, I can work on countermeasures for our computers at MI6.”

“That’s good to know, but my concern is the physical well-being of my patients. As long as I don’t have to worry about them being experimented on, I’ll leave the computer aspect to you. Have you found  _ anything  _ that will help make it safer to remove these two from their tanks?”

Q’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing, I’m afraid. We’ll have to go with clues from the equipment.” Disappointment crossed Wysong’s face, and Q asked sharply, “You will be able to remove and awaken them?”

“I should, yes, even without their notes, although having them would be useful. I’ve got the equipment mostly sorted. It’s the drugs keeping them comatose that concern me. And then, of course, once we have them awake, there’s the question of brain damage.” Wysong sighed. “But we can’t tell that until they are awake.”

* * *

“Turn it off, Alec,” James asked. He had no desire to hear any more. No one knew what would happen when they disconnected Alec’s body from the equipment keeping him alive and hooked into the complex. Would Alec even wake up? Would he lose his connection to the complex or his ability to communicate? Or would he… die?

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh? Tell me, then.”

“You’re wondering if they should just leave me in the tank rather than risk brain damage and death.” Alec snorted bitterly. “I want my body back. I want my  _ life  _ back.”

James sighed, then said quietly, “I want you back too.”

“If…” Alec stopped, as if unable to go on, and James knew what he meant.

He hated to make the promise, but if things were reversed… “I will.” 

* * *

James and Q ate dinner together that night, in one of the bedrooms on the upper level. Alec chimed in from time to time from the room’s speaker. It was a pleasant meal, even though Alec couldn’t be there physically. James was frustrated. Although the conversation remained light, Q had been more interested in talking to Alec about the complex’s computer. Not that James wanted to have sex with Q while Alec was locked away in a tank, but… He would have preferred it if they could have had a meaningful conversation about their relationship. Finally he stood and bade Q and Alec goodnight, and escaped to his own room. 

* * *

The following morning, they had a video conference with Mallory, who had demanded an update. 

James sat at the table between Q and Marlena, who had just given her report on her part of the operation. She would be heading back soon, to MI6 and a new mission. Dr Wysong was across from him, shuffling the papers in front of her.

“Thank you, 005,” Mallory said from the wall monitor. “If we can get started on the next item?” 

“Of course, sir,” Q said, his voice calm and professional. “So far, I have been able to only partially reconstruct the data in the mainframe. They managed to thoroughly destroy most of their records, and the few remaining files are deeply encrypted. The encryption algorithm is really quite ingenious. I might be able to reverse engineer some of the techniques for our own use.”

“Really? Can you be sure they won’t be able to gain access to our computers in return?” Mallory sounded interested, and gave a tight smile when Q nodded. “Excellent. I’d like a report on that when you get a chance. Now. Were you able to figure out what they were attempting to achieve?”

Q hesitated, his eyes darting to Alec’s speaker. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, they were attempting to perfect remote control via brainwaves. A kind of remote telekinesis, if you will.”

“You mean the way Alec controls the…” James cut himself off, remembering that Mallory didn’t know about the Jaguar. “Things like the lights around here.”

Q gave him an approving nod. “Exactly. It’s not precisely telekinesis, nor is it precisely remote control. The implants in Alec’s brain seem to allow him to use his brainwaves to control certain mechanical objects that are in close proximity, and to speak through the computer system.”

“Why use a human being? Why not use a computer?”

Mallory again. James wasn’t sure, but it sounded as though Mallory was entirely too interested. Would he want to duplicate these experiments? What would that mean for Alec if he did? One look at Q made him suspect that the Quartermaster had similar concerns.

“The human brain is capable of so much more than a computer. I suspect that this group wanted to be able to give someone a vague instruction and have that person be able to interpret the instructions correctly.” Q turned to Marlena, and with a smiled apology took her pad of paper, placing it in front of him. He laid his own tablet next to it, followed by his phone. “If you ask a computer to put these in the far corner, it wouldn’t be able to perform the task. The instruction is too vague. A human, on the other hand, would be able to do it easily, using their own judgement to decide how to fulfill the command.”

“So they’re essentially using a human brain as a computer interface?” Mallory asked, his eyes going hooded as he contemplated something out of the range of the camera.

“Yes, sir,” Q confirmed.

“Very well. Your report, Dr Wysong?”

Wysong shuffled the papers in front of her, selecting one and placing it at the top of the stack. “I can’t speak to the success or failure of the experiment. It is obvious that the victims were kidnapped rather than volunteers. The procedure appears to have been to acquire a subject and implant sensors into their brains. They shaved the subject’s head, removed a portion of the skull to implant the sensors, then replaced the skull. Then there would have been a period of weeks or perhaps a few months for the skull to heal and the brain to incorporate the sensors into itself. This happened with Trevelyan. The young woman known to us as 15 is still early in the healing period.”

James felt sick at the callous way the doctor described Alec’s ordeal, and Marlena shifted beside him, obviously growing annoyed.

“In fact,” Wysong continued, “I’d say she’d only had the sensors implanted a few days ago.”

“Of course it was only a few days ago. I saw those bastards drag that poor woman in here while I was surveilling the place. I could have rescued her if I’d known!” Marlena looked around the table, fuming, then settled back into her chair.

James sympathised with Marlena’s outburst. He caught her eye and mouthed, “Later.”

Mallory watched dispassionately from the monitor. “That’s enough, 005. Dr Wysong, what does this mean for freeing Trevelyan and 15 from the tanks?”

“At the present time, the tanks are sustaining all their bodily functions. Fortunately, the apparatus is functioning automatically. They should be able to sustain Trevelyan and 15 for at least a few more days. We can’t remove either one from the tanks as yet. They both appear to be in deep comatose states, although Trevelyan has shown awareness —”

“Locked in syndrome,” Alec cut in, sounding cheerful, although James knew it was more likely gallows humor. If they couldn’t release him before the equipment keeping him alive shut down… But then he noticed that  Wysong’s brow was furrowed as she looked at Alec’s speaker. Then her eyes widened for a moment before she schooled her expression into neutrality. What had she realized? He’d have to track her down after the meeting.

“Yes,” Wysong said smoothly, as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Physically, both Trevelyan and 15 are in a state where they cannot function without complete life support. Trevelyan reports that he does not sense 15’s presence, although it might be too soon for her to be able to communicate. We remain uncertain if she can recover fully even if we succeed in freeing her from the tank.”

“Can you do it?” James ground out, tired of her dancing around the answer.

She slid a glance towards him, then back to Mallory. “I’m waiting for the life support equipment I requested. It’s due to arrive tomorrow. I’ll need another day to set it up and make sure it’s functional. If all goes to plan, I can begin the process to release them in 48 hours.”

“What about the sensors?” James asked, knowing Alec wouldn’t.

Wysong hesitated, her shoulders slumping. “It’s unlikely that we can remove them from Trevelyan’s brain safely. Certainly they can be removed, but that would result in moderate to significant brain damage. I’ll have to examine 15 before I can determine if we can safely remove her sensors.”

“Should you safely remove either or both from the tanks,” Mallory blithely ignored James’ glare. “Do you have a plan to awaken them?”

“Yes,” she said confidently. “As soon as I have them out of the tanks and can examine them. I believe I can safely wean them off whatever drugs are keeping them comatose. After that, it will be up to them.”

Mallory nodded. “Keep me apprised of your status, Doctor.” He leaned forward and pressed something off screen, and the monitor went black as the connection was cut.

“Dr Wysong, could I speak to you for a moment, in the corridor?” James wasn’t about to question her when Mallory might still be listening in.

She regarded him somberly, her eyes softening a fraction. “Two days, Agent Bond, that’s all I can say. It all depends on what I find when I get them out.” She gathered her papers and swept out, leaving James to stare after her in consternation.

He grumbled under his breath and got up. “Come with me,” he said, waving to Q and Marlena to follow him.

* * *

Dr Wysong glared at him in exasperation as he, Q, and Marlena caught up to her. “I already told you two days, Bond. I can’t say more than that.”

James shook his head. “That’s not it. What did you figure out during the meeting?”

Wysong shot him a glance but didn’t stop. “I’m going to check on that now. An article from a few years ago. Someone researching ways to communicate with a patient stricken by Locked In Syndrome. If I recall correctly, it mentioned implants and computers.”

James traded a glance with Q, and they followed Wysong into the lab. Marlena settled onto one of the chairs, while James and Q stood by Wysong as she logged into her computer to ran a search. After a few minutes, Wysong huffed in frustration.

Before James could ask what was wrong, she said, “I remember this damn article, and I can’t find it. Sit down if you’re staying. This may take a while.”

After about fifteen minutes, Q quietly retrieved his laptop and began a search of his own, first checking with Wysong for possible keywords. James drifted back to stand by Marlena, feeling helpless. 

“You could get some tea, you know,” Marlena suggested. “Or coffee. You know how researchers are.”

James bit back a retort, and looked from her to the other two. He sighed. She had a point. He ignored her smug smile as he went to find the closest source of caffeine.

He returned, successful in his quest, and deposited mugs near Q and Wysong. At least Q looked up with a surprised and pleased smile that warmed him and made it worth it. He didn’t even mind Marlena’s I told you so.

It took another hour, but finally Wysong crowed, “I knew it was somewhere! And look — there’s an author’s photo. I do believe it’s our Jane Doe, number 15.”

James frowned. The young woman in the picture looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to the face. He’d met a lot of people in his career, and sometimes his life depended on quick identification. It annoyed him that he couldn’t immediately place her. Then he remembered the prison room. The purple hoodie on the floor… He’d seen someone else with one — “She’s the woman in the warehouse, three months ago. I left her with the local station there. How did she get  _ here?” _

“I don’t know anything about that,” Marlena said, “but she’s definitely the one I saw with the tour group, the one who was carried into the house as though she was a prisoner.” 

* * *

Things had happened quickly after that, as Wysong researched all of Dr Rebekah Pierson’s notes. They had discovered that Dr Pierson had gone missing, presumed dead, 5 years before. James queried the Station he’d left her at three months before, but all they could tell him was that she’d left under her own power. Presumably someone else had snatched her after that. Marlena had grumbled about incompetents as she left for MI6, and told James that she would look into it.

Fortunately, Wysong was able to obtain Pierson’s remaining research, and it had enough hints of the current project that she had been able to better able to determine the mix of drugs keeping her two patients unconscious. She had even been able to concoct a mix to counteract those drugs, that would bring them relatively quickly — and safely — back to consciousness. 

Then the life support equipment arrived and Wysong and her staff had worked through the night setting it up and testing it. They outfitted two rooms in the complex as ICUs, to provide total life support. Then all that remained was to remove the patients from their tanks.

They had started with Pierson, freeing her from the tank in the morning. That afternoon, Q sat beside James, watching as a member of the medical team opened a valve on the tank to drain it, beginning the process of removing Alec from the tank. Q put a hand on James’ elbow, wanting to ground him before he vibrated off his chair. “I know this is useless, but please try to relax. Dr Wysong removed Pierson from her tank without any difficulties.”

James blew out a frustrated breath, his ice blue eyes flickering to Q before refocusing on Alec’s tank. “I know, I just… worry.” 

“It will be all right,” Q said, keeping his voice steady and certain. James had protested Wysong’s decision to remove Pierson first, and only relented after Q had explained that if something went wrong with the process, better it be with her and not Alec. It was calculated and cold logic, without a shred of humanity behind the decision, but it was an argument he knew James would understand. And of course James had. A bonus came, though — by Q pushing back the way he did, James seemed to finally understand that Q had as much at stake in Alec’s well being as James himself did, and became seemingly content to follow Q’s lead in trusting Dr Wysong.

The medical team went into motion when the tank was half-empty, carefully lifting Alec from the liquid and detaching the tubes connecting him to the tank’s life support system. As each tube was removed, it was replaced by MI6 equipment. Finally, Alec was freed from the tank and placed on a gurney. 

The medical team wheeled him and the life support equipment into the empty ICU room, with Q and James following. They had to stop when Wysong barred their way at the door to the ICU. As a precaution, Q gripped James’ elbow.

“We need to stabilize him. Come back in an hour.” 

From the stiff muscles under his hand, Q could feel that James wanted to object. “Not now. Alec will be fine, and Dr Wysong needs to do her job.”

James seemed to battle with himself, and Q held his breath, waiting. But James only glanced at him and nodded, then looked at Dr Wysong. “All right. One hour.” 

Dr Wysong looked unimpressed by the implied threat and simply closed the door in their faces.

Q was mildly impressed at her ability to withstand Double O’s and their… foibles.

An hour later, Q had returned with James, and Dr Wysong ceded the room to them. Q had taken one look at James and left too. He wanted to give James time alone with Alec, even if Alec wasn’t conscious.

After that, matters at the complex settled into a routine. Wysong refused to allow her patients to be moved until they woke up, so over the next few days, the two were weaned from the life support equipment while she changed the mix of drugs in their systems. Alec and Pierson finally got to the point where they were surviving on their own and free of the drugs keeping them comatose, and then it became a matter of waiting for them to wake up. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is out of the tank, and now all James and Q have to do is wait for him to wake up. Except - there's still the question of why Alec was kidnapped in the first place.

Q leaned against the door frame, his tablet forgotten in his hand, watching raptly as James shaved Alec, describing each action in a low voice. The cut throat razor was aptly named, and James wielded it expertly, deftly avoiding the pressure sores left by the breathing mask. Q was tempted to take a picture, but he suspected that might be pushing the bounds of their budding relationship.

James had started off by trimming Alec’s beard with a pair of scissors. Four months of neglected growth had left almost as much hair on Alec’s chin as on his head. Q found it odd to see Alec with such short hair. In all his interactions with the agent, Alec’s hair had been medium length or longer — and there had been one memorable occasion when Alec had let his hair grow long enough that it had to be tied back.

Each stroke through the foam on Alec’s face revealed pale skin, and the bowl of water on the bedside table grew foamy as James cleaned the razor between strokes. Q wasn’t used to James showing such a caring side. He smiled wryly. As he’d said said to Marlena, he was a man of hidden depths. It only made sense that the agent was as well. It made him curious — what more could he discover about James? And about Alec, of course, because he wasn’t foolish enough to think he could come between the two. Besides, Alec had seemed to like him, too. 

Q also knew just how smart the two Double O’s actually were, despite the way they tried to downplay their intelligence. He had no doubt that a relationship between the three of them would be based on more than just mutual attraction. Although… He tried imagining what a relationship between the three of them would be like, and his eyes drifted closed while a pleasant warmth washed through him. Their hands on him or his hands on them… Both prospects were equally appealing. Q almost felt like purring. 

Wait. His eyes flew open as a sudden realization wormed its way through his mind, and he went still. He hadn’t really spoken to Alec lately except about the complex’s computer system. Even the other night, when he and James had dinner in his room, Q’s focus had been on those damn computers. What if Alec thought Q wasn’t interested in him? What if Alec had only approved of Q dating James because everyone — including Alec — thought he was dead? What would happen when Alec woke up, and Q wasn’t really welcome?

James set the razor down and picked up a cloth and began wiping Alec’s face. He raised his voice and asked, “Are you going to keep lurking there?”

Q pushed off from the door frame, attempting to keep any hint of his sudden uncertainty from his manner. “I don’t lurk, that’s part of your job description.”

A smile flickered across James’ face, there and gone again, but it stayed in his eyes. “You’re quite good at it. You could try a whole new career with MI6.”

That startled a laugh out him. “I’ll stick with my tech, thank you.”

James laid the towel aside, then stood back, looking down at Alec. Q joined him at the bedside.

“I’ve heard that Pierson woke up. Has there been any change in Alec?” He regretted his question when pain flashed across James’ face. Pierson had apparently woken relatively quickly, going from unmoving to alert and screaming in only a few hours. Not that he could blame her for her reaction. The young woman hadn’t known where she was, what happened to her, or even what her name was. At least she had cooperated with Dr Wysong once she had calmed down, and had passed the physical checks. The only damage from the surgery she had gone through was her amnesia. Dr Wysong wasn’t certain at this point whether Pierson would ever recover her memory. He put his hand on James’ arm. “I’m sure he’ll be fine when he wakes up.”

He could see the effort it took James to return his smile at the reassurance. What was James imagining? An unbidden image rose in his own imagination. Alec waking up, staring at them without recognition, with fear in his eyes. Q suppressed a shudder at the thought.

“Wysong thinks he’ll wake up soon.” James gestured towards the shaving gear. “I thought he’d be happier without the beard.”

“You’ve been doing physio with him too, haven’t you?” Q realized he felt faintly uneasy looking at Alec’s unmoving form. How much worse must it be for James?

“Bed sores are no joke. Plus, it helps him regain muscle tone.” James huffed an annoyed breath. “The only good thing about the tank was it kept him from developing pressure sores, except for under the breathing mask.”

Q’s eyes widened as he noticed Alec’s fingers twitch. “Look at that. Is he waking up?”

James shook his head. “Not yet, but Wysong says the twitching is encouraging. The more it increases, the closer he is to waking completely.”

“Have you, erm... Has he said anything lately?” Q nodded towards the speakers in the room. He hadn’t heard anything, but surely Alec would have spoken to James if he could.

“No. Not since they pulled him from the tank. I hope that means he’s managed to find a way back into his body.”

Q watched the way James’ eyes darted towards a book left on the side table beside a comfortable looking chair. Perhaps it was time for him to leave the two be. Did he even have the right to comfort James any more? He didn’t want to be a third wheel. There was a glass of melting ice on the table next to the book, waiting for Alec to wake up.Q seized on the idea. “Would you like me to refill the glass? There’s ice in the kitchen down the hall.”  _ Idiot.  _ Of course James knew where the ice came from.

But James smiled at him, as if he were still welcome in James’ life. “Please. I’m going to sit with him for a while.”

Q nodded and took the glass out to the kitchen. As he filled it with ice chips, he debated whether to bring it back to James himself, or if he could get one of the nurses to do it. No, he decided. He wasn’t going to take the coward's way out. He would just gracefully step aside without being asked. Decision made, he strode back to Alec’s room.

* * *

Alec returned to awareness slowly, feeling as though his thoughts were trying to swim through molasses. He attempted to open his eyes, but it felt like there were heavy weights on his eyelids keeping them closed. In fact, his whole body felt unusually heavy, as though someone had increased gravity tenfold when he wasn’t looking. Even breathing took more effort than he was used to.

A low voice murmured nearby. Someone reading? Or speaking? Two voices, maybe. Familiar. “James...” Had he managed to speak loud enough? Evidently so, because the conversation cut off abruptly.

“Alec?” The bed dipped as a weight pressed against the mattress by his side. A featherlight pressure touched his shoulder as James spoke. “Can you open your eyes? It’s safe, I dimmed the lights.”

He tried to open his eyes again, finally managing to crack his eyelids enough to let in a tiny bit of light. A blurry image — James! — hovered over him. His eyelids were still heavy though, and they fell closed again. He tried to moisten his lips to tell James he was still awake, but failed.

“Hang on.” That was the other voice. Q, he thought, and Alec heard heard a clinking sound of metal in glass. “Give him this.”

This was a feeling of cold metal against his lips. He opened his mouth, and James deposited a spoonful of chipped ice inside. He almost moaned at how good the feeling was against his dry throat.

“Good, huh?” He could hear the humour in James’ voice.

James fed him a few more spoonfuls of ice before he turned his head minutely to the side.

“No more? All right. You ready for me to get Wysong in here?”

This time when he tried to open his eyes, he succeeded. The world stabilized into the softness of twilight. James was smiling at him. He tried to smile back. “James.”

James’ smile broadened. “Yes.” He leaned close, pressing his lips gently against Alec’s.

He wanted to kiss back, tell James to forget Wysong, they didn’t need her, but darkness pulled at him again and he fell asleep between one breath and the next.

* * *

James deflated slightly as he felt Alec fall asleep beneath his lips. He wanted to panic, but he could tell this time it truly  _ was  _ sleep, not the deep unconsciousness of the coma. Wysong had warned him that it would take a few rounds of wakefulness and sleeping before Alec fully woke. He turned, looking for Q, who was standing by the door instead of next to him, as if he had caught Q just before leaving the room. That puzzled James, until he realized that Q must have been going to get Dr Wysong. He couldn’t keep the exultant grin off his face at the full implications of Alec waking. “He recognized me, Q. He even spoke. He’s going to be fine!”

* * *

MI6’s medical wing was mostly for minor injuries or illnesses. They could handle life threatening emergencies, but once a patient was stable they were sent out to a secure wing in the local hospital. There were, however, a few rooms set aside for patients that needed to be kept under high security during their recovery. 

For the last few weeks, two of those rooms were occupied by Alec and Dr Rebekah Pierson as they recovered from their ordeal.

James stood by the door while Alec maneuvered himself back into bed. It looked much easier for him than it had been even a week ago, but James still had to control the urge to help. Alec would hate being coddled, though, and snap at him. Fair enough, James supposed. He hated being coddled when he was recovering, too. At least Alec was quickly getting lost muscle tone back, although they both chafed at the restrictions imposed by the physical therapists. If he heard “slow and steady” one more time he was going to snap himself and start shooting. 

“Anything you need?” He normally stayed with Alec all day, making a nuisance of himself according to the nurses, but he’d seen that Marlena was back. He wanted to talk to her. 

“I’m good. Tell Marlena I said hi.”

James smiled. Alec might still be recovering, but he was as sharp as he’d ever been. “Got it.” He hesitated, wanting a proper goodbye, but he wanted so much more than just a simple kiss or half an embrace. Alec’s lopsided smile caused James to catch his breath, attempting to control his desire. 

Interest flared in Alec’s eyes, letting James know he failed to conceal that he  _ wanted. _ Then Alec deliberately closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. “When I get out of here.”

“Yes.” Hopefully that would be soon. James drifted closer and bent down for a kiss, reveling in Alec’s living warmth. He broke the kiss, nuzzling against Alec’s cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

* * *

James left the medical ward and went to track down Marlena. He found her in the gym reserved for the Double O‘s, waiting for him. 

She sat on the seated leg press, smoothly pushing her legs straight, then easing back and pushing out straight again. “About time you got here, James.”

He’d expected to meet her in the suite of offices the Double O’s used or at least their break room. He hadn’t expected the gym. “You could have left a note.”

Marlena snorted as she slowly eased the weights down onto the stack and got up. “If you needed a note, you needed more training. Glad I could help.”

James snorted under his breath. He remembered helping to train  _ her  _ a few years ago. “What did you find out?”

“Not much. The local station questioned her, but she gave a fake name and address. They didn’t think she was anyone important, so they didn’t bother to confirm either. They just let her leave. I couldn’t track her movements after that, and the smugglers you left alive are still awaiting trial. I couldn’t get in to question any of them. Said I might prejudice the case against them or some rot.”

“Damn.” If Marlena hadn’t been able to track Pierson past that, then the woman couldn’t be tracked. That only left — “Let’s go talk to her. See what she has to say.”

Marlena looked down at her sweat soaked top. “Let me get a shower first.”

* * *

Back in the medical wing once more, James had to resist the pull towards Alec’s room. Marlena gave him a knowing smirk as she led the way to see Pierson. James considered several responses, but in the end, he just let it go. It wasn’t Marlena’s fault that he hated everyone in MI6 knowing about his and Alec’s relationship.

Dr Wysong saw them as they entered the medical wing,and walked with them to Pierson’s room. “Are you here to visit Rebekah? I was just going in to see her myself.”

A rhythmic bouncing echoed out into the hallway from the open door.

“Yes, we were,” Marlena said. “That is, if she’s up for visitors?”

“I’m sure she is,” Wysong said. “Poor thing needs to socialize more. Go easy on her, though. She still tires easily, even though she won’t admit it.”

“Of course,” James assured the doctor. He glanced at Marlena, who smiled innocently back at him. “We’re just going to chat.”

“Good.” Wysong checked her watch. “If you’re going to visit with Rebekah, I’ll go check on Agent Trevelyan.”

James stifled the automatic impulse to follow Wysong to go see Alec. He glanced at Marlena instead, and scowled at her when she smiled innocently back. “Let’s go.”

They entered Pierson’s room, obviously startling her. James caught the rubber ball that flew towards him. Pierson had apparently been bouncing it against the wall. “I believe this is yours,” he said, tossing it to her when he saw that she was ready.

Pierson caught the ball, holding it in her lap. She looked at them with curiosity. “Did you want something?”

James settled one hip against the bed’s footboard and crossed his arms. “How much do you remember of what happened to you?”

Pierson blinked, as if surprised. “I thought you knew, Agent Bond. I’ve got brain damage induced amnesia. I don’t remember anything.”

Marlena cocked her head. “Not even a little? Odd memories that don’t fit? The brain is a complex organ, that has billions of intricate connections. It’s remarkably resilient.”

“That may be, Agent Morningstar. Dr Wysong tells me I was a neurologist. She’s even showed me some of my old papers.” Pierson sighed, her expression turning wistful. “I don’t remember any of them. Hopefully the connections in my brain do reroute themselves. I’d like to be able to remember at least some of my past.”

“Perhaps that will happen soon. I know Dr Wysong is doing everything she can to help you recover your memories.” James smiled at Pierson, one of his charming smiles meant for marks. “Anything you remember might be able to help our investigation and put the people that hurt you behind bars.”

Pierson’s eyes flickered away from his for a moment, as if she felt guilty about something. But what? James traded another glance with Marlena. 

“Dr Wysong said it would help you to socialize a little more,” Marlena said, pulling up another chair and settling into it. “Let’s just chat, and see if there’s anything you do remember. Association might help. Books, maybe? Movies?”

“That sounds lovely,” Pierson said with a tight little smile.

James waited, watching carefully as Marlena wove a web of words around Pierson. Every time Pierson reacted minutely, James made a note of it. He was more sure than ever that she remembered more of her past than she admitted.

* * *

“Well?” Marlena asked as they left Pierson’s room.

“She’s definitely hiding something.”

Marlena rolled her eyes. “We already knew that. What do you think it is? She gave the game away a bit when I was talking about my university days. I’m not sure what she might remember, though.”

“Could be something about a boyfriend. We know she had one while working on her doctorate, and she disappeared right after she graduated. If we track him down, we might find something.” James looked down the hallway where Dr Wysong was at the desk, talking to one of the nurses. “But Wysong will never let us question her properly.”

“No. Well, it’s still early days. Maybe Pierson will let something more slip.”

“Maybe.”

“In the meantime,” Marlena studied him for a moment. “I could have sworn you were dating the Quartermaster, but I haven’t seen him around you lately. And it’s obvious you and Trevelyan are a couple. Does that mean Q is available again?”

James stiffened, thinking back over the past few weeks. It was true, he hadn’t seen as much of Q as had thought he might, because he’d been spending most of his available time with Alec. But Q was still interested in them, he was sure of it. “No,” he said sharply.

Marlena raised her brows. “Touchy.”

He just shrugged. Let her make of that what she would.

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him, then nodded with a coy smile. “If you’re sure, then. I suppose I’ll have to find my own techie in Q-branch.” 

James stifled the urge to growl as Marlena sauntered away. There was nothing the matter with his relationship with Alec and Q. Everything was fine between the three of them.

Wasn’t it?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James had had some time to think while on a mission away from Alec and Q, but he's still not sure what he can do to get the three of them getting together. It's a good thing that Q has plans and has Alec to help him!

Two months later, James was still thinking of what Marlena had said in the medical wing. She had wanted to know if Q might be available, since he obviously wasn’t with James and Alec. He’d been so sure that she was wrong. But was she?

He sat in the Jaguar once more, for old time’s sake, looking out at the garage below the flat, his Aston Martin in the next parking spot over. He’d spent the day at MI6, slowly going out of his mind while doing paperwork. He’d finally gone to see Mallory, right before heading home.

What was he doing still out here, freezing his ass off? He should be going up to the flat to see Alec, where it was warm. Instead, he was hiding out in the Jaguar. 

Almost three months had gone by since the rescue. Two months ago, Alec had come home to finish convalescing, and James had started getting restless only a month ago. He needed a mission. Guilt kept him from saying anything, but he had a feeling Alec knew anyway. 

Alec, who had been pushing him to spend more time with Q. James had asked, but hadn’t been able to get Alec to tell him why. Meanwhile, Q had been pushing him to spend more time with Alec. Now James was just confused. He had been sure that Q wanted a relationship with him, and he’d thought with Alec, too. Instead, Q was always busy, lately. Having to deal with other agents, or catching up on projects that he’d let slide while helping with Alec. 

James couldn’t figure out what had happened. He had been surprised at how much he enjoyed Q’s company, and Q had seemed to enjoy his company in return. They had been growing closer while Alec’s only presence was in the Jaguar, but he’d thought that Q and Alec were growing closer, too. Q had spent a lot of time with Alec the Jaguar. But ever since Alec had woken up, Q had become more and more distant. And Alec — James sighed, closing his eyes. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Alec was pulling away from him, too.

When Alec woke up, James had expected that all three of them would get together. He had even hoped Q would move in with them. Instead, the opposite was happening. He felt as though he was walking a tightrope between the two, and if he misstepped, he’d lose them both. He’d be damned if he let that happen.

That afternoon James had asked Mallory for a mission. With any luck, he would figure out what he needed to say to Alec and Q while he was gone. All he needed to do now was somehow tell Alec he’d be gone in the morning.

* * *

Alec finished the repetition, feeling the burn in his muscles as he slowly eased the weights back into place. He sat up and picked up the towel draped over the rack next to him, idly looking around the weight room as he wiped the sweat from his face. He was the only Double O taking advantage of the MI6 gym. Most of the other agents were out on missions — including James — or taking care of paperwork.

He had seen how restless James was getting while Alec was convalescing, and he had known that the only way James would take on a mission was if Alec somehow convinced him to go. When James finally brought up taking a mission, Alec had encouraged him. At least this mission was relatively short. If James kept to the schedule, he should be returning in a few days.

To be honest, Alec had been glad of a little space. Things had been a bit strained between them as he recovered. The relationship they had always preferred to keep quiet had been rather dramatically revealed to the rest of MI6. Then there was Q. The Quartermaster and James had started to get close while Alec was a Jaguar, and he’d been fine with it. Now, that he was back in his own body, he wasn’t so sure. He could tell that the distance Q had been keeping from them was hurting James. Should Alec step aside, and let Q be with James? He hated that idea, but if it would make James happy, he’d learn to live with it. On the other hand, maybe they could manage a relationship between the three of them? He liked the idea, and he knew that James did, but would Q be willing to try? 

He shook his head. Relationship discussions could be so messy. That’s why he tended to avoid them, just like he’d been avoiding Q. He put the towel down and moved to the next machine. It was time to increase the weight again.

He was happy with the progress he’d made since regaining his body. He was almost back to his original level of fitness, and working on increasing his stamina under the watchful eyes of both medical and psych. He chafed a bit under their restrictions, but he couldn’t resent them. He had to know — MI6 had to know — he was in top condition, ready for anything a mission might throw at him. Then there was the question of unexpected side effects from his little... out-of-body experience. If something happened, would he be able to handle it? He snorted at himself. He knew he was lucky. Between his injuries from the crash, the brain surgery, and the three month induced coma, he had been afraid he would never be an active Double O again. As it was, he wasn’t looking forward to retirement. Him? Ride a desk? He shuddered at the thought.

The door opened. He didn’t look over, assuming it was one of his fellow Double O’s. None of the other MI6 personnel used this particular weight room. He kept part of his awareness alert for any sign something might be wrong, and smoothly continued past the biceps bar he’d been heading for and went to the chest press. That machine would allow him to keep the entire room in sight as he used it, rather than the vulnerable position he’d be in with one of the other machines.

He settled into the chest press and looked across the room. To his surprise, it was the Quartermaster — heading toward him with a determined expression. He put on a smile meant to charm as Q stopped beside him. “Are you here looking for a _ personal _ trainer?”

“I’m here to talk to you. If I were looking for a personal trainer, I’d be better off going elsewhere.” As if realizing that might be an insult, Q hurried on, “I mean, I’m not looking for a Double O’s level of fitness, just...”

Alec laughed, intending to reassure the Quartermaster, but Q’s embarrassed flush darkened a bit before he could speak.

“Damn it, Alec, I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been making it damned difficult for me to find you, and _ now _you decide to flirt?”

He blinked, not expecting that Q had been looking for him. Alec couldn’t deny that he had been avoiding the Quartermaster for the last few weeks. He shifted on the seat of the chest press and stood up. Then, realizing that with his height he would be looming over Q, he eased back a step. “I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid you, and it was unprofessional of me. What can I do for you, Q?”

Q didn’t appear mollified by his apology. “You can tell me the truth. Why were you avoiding me? Was it because James and I were together —”

_ Were? _ Why was Q using the past tense about being with James? “No,” he interrupted. “Not because of that. It was more... I wasn’t sure if you wanted me _ and _James, because you liked me as a car but you weren’t interested in me before. But since you liked James, I figured, I don’t know. That you would prefer him? But you said ‘were’. You don’t want to be with James any more? Most people don’t want to be in a three-sided relationship, but…”

Q appeared startled at first, but then a fond smile appeared on his face as Alec rambled to a stop. “Do you really think that would matter? I was worried you were angry at me for dating James when you couldn’t be with him, and that I wouldn’t be welcome with the two of you.”

“Oh. No, that part’s fine. Then you do want to date both of us?” He could hope… It would make James happy, and Alec had been looking forward to getting to know Q better.

Q hesitated. “I would, but I don’t want to come between the two of you.”

Oh, Q wanted reassurance. That was easy. “You wouldn’t. We have a... _ unique _relationship, I suppose. We know there are times neither of us can be faithful, due to our careers. We’ve gotten used to the idea of sharing.” His smile became anticipatory. “Besides, threesomes can be fun.”

“They can,” Q agreed with a smirk, surprising Alec again. “What, did you think I was some sort of innocent?”

“I won’t make that mistake again,” Alec promised. He lowered his voice and leaned forward suggestively. “Shall we go somewhere comfortable to discuss this?” 

Q’s pupils dilated in response, turning his hazel eyes dark. “Yes. But only discuss — I think all three of us need to have a long talk after James gets back.”

* * *

Beka hated the feeling of being shut in her room, trapped, so she left the door open as much as she could. She put her book down and picked up her ball, idly bouncing it against the floor, working once more on her hand/eye coordination. It was something to do to stave off boredom. She carefully stayed out of sight of the hallway, of course. Sooner or later, someone in charge would remember she was there, and want to question her about her role in all this. She had no idea what she would say. For now, at least, she still had some cover as a recovering patient, and Dr Wysong seemed to be ferocious when it came to protecting her charges.

It was quiet out in the hallway, as it had been for the last two months. Before Agent Trevelyan had been sent home, she would hear him walking up and down, over and over again, to rebuild his strength. He had always been accompanied by his constant shadow, Agent Bond. She ruthlessly shoved down a surge of guilt. Bond and Agent Morningstar had come to talk to her a few times, convinced she was hiding something. Each time she told them she could remember nothing. 

At least Trevelyan was fully recovered now, or nearly. She huffed a laugh. Wysong wanted her to talk over everything with a psychologist, or to talk with Trevelyan about their shared experiences. With any luck Beka would be able to put that off. Like, forever, if she had her way.

She looked up as someone tapped on her door. Dr Wysong stood there, peeking around the corner formed by the small en suite bathroom.

“Hello, Rebekah! Are you ready to be examined?” Even though it was phrased as a question, Wysong entered the room and closed the door firmly behind her. “You’ve been doing so well since you’ve woken up. We should be able to move you a more permanent location soon.”

Beka shivered. That meant she’d be outside of MI6’s protection and she could be kidnapped again. But Wysong misinterpreted her reaction.

“Are you cold, Rebekah? We can wrap you in a blanket while I examine you. Don’t worry, I can work around it.” Wysong turned her head, scanning the room. 

Probably looking for an extra blanket to spontaneously appear, Beka thought. But she couldn’t let that thought color her reactions, so she said hurriedly, “Oh, no, Dr Wysong, that’s fine. It’s just that name. I know you said it’s mine, but it still doesn’t seem familiar, even after three months. I can’t seem to get used to it.”

Concerned pity crossed Wysong’s face. “It’s a good name. You are Doctor Rebekah Pierson. Maybe if you tried thinking of yourself as Rebekah more? I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I promise, you will get used to your name again. Amnesia can be a funny thing sometimes.”

Articles that she’d read in med school during one of her neurology units flashed through Beka’s mind. Wysong was right, but she was ignoring the issue of the potential brain damage the sensor surgery had left behind. Beka hid a smile. “It’s a pity I can’t remember anything. What if I didn’t like being a doctor? Maybe I wanted to be a teacher.” She pretended to think a moment and sighed. “Not that they’d let an amnesiac be in charge of a room full of little kids.”

The doctor’s face fell. “Oh, but being a doctor is so rewarding, Rebekah! I’m sure you loved it. You just don’t —” Wysong caught herself before she could say remember, and gave Beka a flustered look. “Why don’t you sit down, and we’ll begin.”

Beka sat on the chair next to her bed as Dr Wysong’s cold fingers probed her head through her still short hair. She looked as though she was growing out a crew cut. At least that bastard Paul had paid attention when she had performed the procedures. The incisions where he had cut into her head to install the sensors had healed well, as had the openings in her skull underneath.

“How does this feel, Rebekah?”

“Still a little sore.” Beka waited while the doctor hummed acknowledgement and moved to the next test. Could she reasonably claim to be in more pain than she actually was? It had been three months since she’d woken up after being pulled from the tank, and she had stayed well within the normal variance of the timeline she’d established for healing after sensor surgery — not that she’d ever expected to be on the receiving end of her own procedure.

Wysong took the opportunity of a captive audience to extol the virtues of medicine and the medical field, trying to change Beka’s mind about teaching. 

Beka took care to ask random questions, all relating to children or child care. She’d had enough of confinement during the years she had been forced to work for Charles Horton, billionaire recluse and madman. She actually disliked children. When she got away from MI6, she wanted them to remember her focus on children to throw them off her scent. 

She’d learned that the first time she tried to escape from Horton and his men. Horton had put out word that she would be found near horses or horse racing. She’d hoped to blend in at a racetrack, but had ended up scooped up by smugglers. They were in the process of making some deal, but they’d told her they would be bringing her back to Horton when they were done. She wasn’t sure if it was luck or not that had led Agent Bond to track down that particular group. Once he realized that she was a prisoner, he’d told her that he and his unknown partner would get her free.

Wysong interrupted her monologue about being a doctor and put a stethoscope on Beka’s chest. “Breathe deeply.”

Beka complied. She’d been skeptical that Bond could actually get them both away from the smugglers, and then he’d surprised her by shooting their way out of the warehouse and arresting the smugglers. After that, he’d left her at the nearest MI6 office to go haring off after his missing partner. The unknown partner had turned out to be Agent Trevelyan, who had been caught by Horton’s men on their standing orders of ‘acquiring’ healthy, fit men between 20-40 that were traveling alone in the mountains.

Beka hadn’t known that at the time. She’d been busy talking her way free of the agents questioning her. But the second she’d set foot outside their office, Horton’s men had grabbed her. She’d returned to the estate to find a new subject — who she only later learned was Trevelyan — waiting for her. 

She had tried refusing, hoping they’d release the man, but Paul surprised her. Paul Adamson, her assistant, her former boyfriend, and the whole reason Horton’s men had grabbed her fresh from receiving her doctorate. He had done the surgery on Trevelyan himself after she refused. Fortunately for Trevelyan, Paul had been brilliant. Each move technically perfect. And Trevelyan, once he had healed enough, had somehow been able to connect with the tracker/receiver unit in his car to communicate with his partner. Beka hadn’t found that out until after she’d woken up after MI6 rescued her. At the time, Paul had been frustrated that they hadn’t gotten their latest test subject to respond to them. He’d demanded that she come up with answers, but she hadn’t known what the problem was. Horton had been breathing down Paul’s neck, and Beka had been just as baffled as Paul. Even if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have helped. Especially after Paul had turned to pain to induce a response. One of his methods should have worked. They’d known from their monitors that Trevelyan had significant brain activity. More than he should have, in the coma he was kept in.

It sort of made sense. The men who kidnapped him used the tracker/receiver unit Paul had designed to track Trevelyan’s car until they could capture him. The tracker was programmed to find the nearest computer motherboard and blend in. Apparently Trevelyan’s car had been modified so that the onboard computer controlled everything about the car. Why he’d been able to connect to it, she had no idea. The possibilities were exciting — not that she’d ever be able to do anything about it.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I just need to write up these notes. You’re in perfect health, and healing well,” Wysong smiled at her. “When I’m done we can continue our conversation.”

“I’d like that, Doctor Wysong,” Beka lied. It was a shame she’d have to give up her research. Her research was important, with valuable implications for people who were unable to communicate. She hated that Horton had twisted it to suit himself. Maybe his illness would incapacitate him soon enough. Although, even if it did, Paul would probably operate on Horton. Given his success rate, Horton would be able to escape his degenerating body for the freedom offered by the internet.

Damn Paul, anyway. She was sure he’d been the one to tip off Horton when she tried to escape the last time. She’d only made it to the next town, where she’d tried to hide among a group of tourists. When the guards dragged her back, Horton had ordered Paul to practice his surgical technique — on her.

Wysong finished up her notes and checked her watch. “I still have a few minutes before I need to give my report to M about the progress you and Agent Trevelyan are making. We have plenty of time to finish our chat.” She launched into an improbable tale from her med school years involving an extra medical cadaver that led to a murder investigation.

Beka listened attentively, although the mention of Agent Trevelyan caused a resurgence of her earlier guilt. She almost wanted to talk to him, to explain or apologise, but… How could she? She shivered as the room’s heating unit kicked on, and the cooler air around her started to move. She reflexively reached out through her sensors, and the vent obediently snapped closed. It was a good thing she’d been able to acquire a stash of the tracker/receivers before they had moved her to MI6. All she needed to do with them was change their frequency, so Horton’s men couldn’t track them.

Wysong kept chatting, oblivious.

Hmmm. It might be easier to get away and hide than she thought. Horton was still out there, though. She’d need to be careful. His men would track her down and kidnap her again, even though he no longer needed her expertise.

This time, maybe she’d look for a job in an old bookstore. 

* * *

James unbuttoned his winter coat as he strode down the hallway towards his flat. It was much warmer inside, almost uncomfortably so. He stopped just short of the flat door and changed his grip on his overnight bag. Overnight — he’d been gone two weeks, and he hadn’t spoken with Alec or Q since he’d left. He’d allowed Alec to encourage him to go on the mission, so that it hadn’t seemed like James had been running away.

He had already reported to Mallory and been debriefed before being sent home, and he had nothing pressing for the next few days. Which was good, because he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do. There had to be some way he could bring his two lovers together. He exhaled. Tomorrow. He’d think about it after he’d gotten some sleep. 

The door opened before he could touch it, and James stared in shock at the person standing there, definitely underdressed for the weather, in only a pair of tracksuit bottoms. “Have I got the wrong flat?”

Q grinned at him. “About time you got home. Alec was ready to go out searching for you.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Alec’s familiar voice protested from the living room.

Q looked over his shoulder and scoffed. “Yes, you were. Admit it. You were worried.”

“Was not.”

James followed his Quartermaster into the flat, listening to Alec and Q tease each other. He dropped his bag inside the door, and Q shoved it against the wall with one foot.

“Here, give me your coat,” and Q was next to him, taking the heavy coat and hanging it on the coatrack. Then Q gave him a sly smile and headed into the living room. “Are you coming?”

Was this a dream? But there was Alec, looking happy and relaxed on the couch, and he at least had a bit more clothes on than the Quartermaster — a tight green t-shirt and well-worn jeans. James wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed at the lack of bare skin, or appreciative of the way Alec’s clothes hugged his body. Then, to James’ shock, Q dropped onto the couch next to Alec and leaned into him, one hand almost absently caressing a denim-clad thigh. These were the same two who hadn’t wanted to be in the same room together before he left?

“Shoes off, James, and sit down,” Q ordered airily. “Clothes off too, if you’d like.”

Alec cuddled Q against his chest. “Clothes off is a good option, James, although you might want to wait a bit.” Alec grunted when Q drove an elbow into his side. “Stop that,” he said in an amused aside, then he addressed James again. “Are you hungry? Food will be here shortly.”

James sat down, still staring at the two, feeling as though he’d missed something. “Food?”

“I think we broke him,” Q said to Alec,_ sotto voce. _

Alec grinned back, the easy grin that James loved. “No, I don’t think so. He’s very difficult to break, you know.”

“You’re the expert,” Q said, wriggling a bit into Alec, getting more comfortable. His eyes went half-lidded as studied James. “Is Alec right? Are you difficult to break, James?”

James found his voice as myriad possibilities involving the three of them flowed through his brain. “You’re welcome to try.”

“Excellent,” Q said smugly. “Dinner first, I think. Then I have plans.”

Whatever those plans were, Alec looked to be in agreement with them. James found himself looking forward to the rest of the evening. He leaned against the back of the couch and felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue! 
> 
> James, Q, and Alec, for a bit of fluffy fun.

Q stepped out of the block of flats and into the cold evening air. He shivered as the wind picked up, and tugged his coat’s zipper up a little higher. The message he received earlier that day said to wait out front. He hoped they’d show up quickly.

He was glad he’d taken the chance and gone to see Alec the other day. They had finally cleared the air between them, and when James had returned from his mission… Well. Q grinned broadly. They’d done a bit of talking, and then they’d had quite a lot of fun.

Q stepped back, away from the kerb, as two men in a car stopped in front of him. The Jaguar screeched to a halt inches away, its tyres cutting grooves into the slush. Alec had driven the Jag well before, but now he drove the Jaguar as though it was an extension of his body. Well. Maybe it was.

The driver’s window opened. “Need a lift?” Green eyes shone up at him while James laughed in the passenger seat.

It still seemed rather odd to see  _ Alec  _ driving the Jaguar. “Only if James gets in back,” Q teased. To his astonishment, though, James agreed easily, getting out and holding the door for him. 

James pulled him close as soon as he got with range, giving him a quick kiss before letting go. “Get in, you’re going to freeze out here.” 

“And here I thought you were going to warm me up,” Q shot back as he slid into the car. It really was colder than he liked.

James just laughed and shut the door closed before getting into the back seat.

The door lock popped closed before Q could press it, and he raised a questioning brow at Alec.

“Seat belts,” Alec said, glancing at him without answering the unspoken question, then meeting James’ eyes in the rear view mirror before he pulled out into traffic.

Q smiled. Whether or not Alec could still move things using the sensors was a question for another day. Today was for enjoyment. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but they were going together, and it was sure to be good.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr - you can find me at leavesdancing.tumblr.com


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